


Minutes Past Midnight

by compo67



Series: Minutes Past Midnight Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alpha Jensen, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Disabled Character, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omega Jared, Pack Dynamics, Pack Politics, Physical Disability, Protective Jensen, Strangers to Lovers, Werewolf Mates, Werewolves, Wheelchairs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22496650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: Minutes past midnight, Jared peers at the unconscious stranger lying on the edge of his territory.From the looks of his markings, the rain, blood, and sweat soaked stranger might be from the Sawtooth pack about three or four hundred miles south. With care and caution, Jared wheels closer to the stranger. Something has to be done--no two ways about it.What does he risk if he takes in such a stranger?Jared holds his dagger at the ready.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: Minutes Past Midnight Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052045
Comments: 282
Kudos: 513





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi! A new fic for ya! This is a bonus fic I posted in 2019, at the request of a dear reader. I was soooo excited to write a were fic with a main character that uses a wheelchair. Hopefully, I pulled everything off. Special thanks to my beta Deb and the encouragement I received while writing this fic. Enjoy! :D
> 
> If you'd like to read bonus fic and read more about how to support me outside of Ao3, visit me at compo67.tumblr.com. <3

Minutes past midnight, Jared peers at the unconscious stranger lying on the edge of his territory. 

He had marked his territory on the last moon, with Kaz’s help, but it seems not to have deterred this stranger from wandering close and ultimately collapsing. From the looks of his markings, the rain, blood, and sweat soaked stranger might be from the Sawtooth pack about three or four hundred miles south. 

Well.

Jared sighs. He rests the heavy dagger in his lap--the one item his omega father--his omfa--made him carry at all times, since puphood. No other pack member carries a weapon on them at all times. They have no need for one. 

The weight of the dagger, and the sharp decrease in air pressure, remind Jared that he has yet to make a decision. Hurried business is bad business, his omfa would say. 

No two ways about it, however, something has to be done right now. 

With care and caution, Jared wheels closer to the stranger. His chair creaks, and the wheels crunch over gravel and the occasional dry brush, yet this noise, and the slip of a collar around his neck, does nothing to rouse the unexpected guest. Jared leans down. He ignores the pop and creak of his own joints as he hooks the collar to a leather harness, then straps the stranger onto a travois Kaz made him to haul wood and game. 

“Rough ride ahead,” Jared murmurs, sitting up straight in his chair and adjusting his gloves. “Suppose I’ll mind it more than you will.” 

Jared pushes forward, headed towards the paved path to his yurt, where he can see the blue smoke from his fire curl up from the opening up top. 

Hauling the stranger behind him, Jared continues to listen for signs of life.


	2. Chapter 2

Jared pauses for breath only once on the journey back. 

Rain saturates the ground just as he wheels into the safe and familiar space of his yurt. An hour later and he would not have been able to inspect the presence of a stranger on his land, much less drag him inside. 

Although the fire in the center provides ample light, Jared wheels towards it for two purposes. He fights with the right front wheel as he turns. After a few attempts, he rolls back, changes angles, adds more force, and eventually rolls his guest close enough to the stone firepit. 

“Of course it rains,” Jared huffs, catching his breath. 

He reaches for the strand of rope attached to the top of the support poles, near the circular opening for smoke to exit. Rain pours in, setting the pace of his movement. 

A few items inside suffer the effects of rain, but it provides his guest with a short shower. Still near the fire, Jared warms up, then accomplishes his second task: lighting a lantern. 

He holds the lantern with the help of a smooth, light pole attached to the top. 

The additional light shows an improvement in the stranger’s breathing--now less of a shudder, almost no rattling. Jared takes note of the rhythm to the heartbeat aside from his own. Steady. Calm. Good signs. 

Unfortunately, there is the matter of the wounds near the ears, muzzle, and neck. 

It crosses Jared’s mind that he may be housing a criminal, a thief, or worse, a pack traitor. Omfa would scold him for being entirely too trusting. His younger siblings would roll their eyes, shake their heads, and chide him for paying any attention to an outsider. 

None of the wounds look life threatening and the blood has dried. Jared notes a significant amount of mud and dust caked on the stranger’s paws, and debris matted in their fur. He must have traveled on foot for days, with very little understanding of what direction he was headed. Instead of avoiding the rough trail, he seems to have walked right through it. 

Jared pulls back the lantern and sets it on a nearby table. 

Aside from the blood, mud, and dust, his guest does possess an intriguing coat. It reminds Jared of amber honey or the last few fall dahlias. Lighter traces of fur near his eyes provide something disarming about him. These highlights make him seem younger. 

No matter. 

Necessity pushes him on. 

Holding the dagger in his right hand, Jared quiets his breathing and leans forward. He unhooks himself from the travois, then ropes the harness around the strongest supporting pole. Perhaps he should muzzle his guest, no telling what state he’ll wake up in. 

However, waking up tied and muzzled may only increase their panic. 

He decides against the muzzle, but keeps a healthy distance between them. 

Rain patters against the soft, felt wool walls of the yurt. Jared dries off with a towel, then sets up his stove top to reheat supper. Tula visits once a month to replace Jared’s candles. He uses fat, taper candles set underneath a rack to reheat or warm up food when the weather prevents use of the fire pit. For lighting, he uses thinner candles, though he ran out last week and has been dipping into the larger sized candle supply. 

Finished with that, he begins the laborious task of cleaning his chair. 

Ropes hang in strategic places throughout the yurt--one set above his bed, one set above an armchair, and one set above a small, curtained off area to either bathe or relieve himself if unable to go outside. 

He wheels himself over to his bed, grabs onto the ropes, and easily lifts himself out of his chair. Quickly, he sets himself down on the mattress and holds himself up with his arms. 

“Cooperate, please,” Jared mumbles, using his hands to position his legs. After a split second debate, he determines he’ll reach more if he lies down on his stomach. 

Comfortable, he reaches forward, pulls his chair close, and grabs one of the few clean rags from underneath his bed. He starts with the wheels, softly humming to himself, following the rhythm of the rain outside. 

Thunder rumbles nearby, and the pressure of the air continues to change. 

The scent of rabbit stew fills the space inside the warm, comfortable yurt. 

Jared glances up the second he senses movement across the fire pit. He keeps his breathing quiet, and tries to quell a spike in anxiety. Just as easily as he can hear the stranger’s heart beat, the stranger can hear his. 

Prepared for the worst, Jared calculates how quickly he can get in his chair, and with what object he might be able to grab first--dagger or whip. 


	3. Chapter 3

Waking with a start, the stranger gasps and sits up on all fours, tail between his legs. 

His ears lie flat back, and he bares his teeth in an attempt to display strength. 

“I found you,” Jared says, keeping still, but adding softness to his tone. “And brought you in from the storm.” 

Instead of shifting to his two paw form, the stranger fights against the harness. Jared worries for all of two seconds before the stranger realizes the extent of his debt to Jared. He keeps his head bowed down and shoulders slumped forward. 

“I won’t ask too many questions.” Jared finishes cleaning the left wheel of his chair and sits up. He makes direct eye contact with the stranger. “You can have some supper and stay the night. No sense in going out in that storm at this hour. What’s your name?” 

Wary green eyes follow Jared’s every movement. 

Still, the stranger does not speak.

“Hmm. Well, I’m Jared. We can take things slow. I’m going to serve you a bowl of soup and a piece of bread. Can you assure me you will keep your distance?” 

A nod. Tawny ears flutter. 

“Right, then. Let’s eat.” 

True to his word, the stranger maintains a respectful distance as Jared sets down a bowl of stew for him to reach forward and take. He accepts the food only when Jared has wheeled over to his bed. Predictably, the stranger eats his portion with a piercing sense of desperation. He crams his snout into the bowl and licks it clean. 

Jared rolls forward and serves his guest another generous helping. 

His guest consumes it at a slightly slower pace this time around. He remains in his four paw form, and his tail moves back and forth as he takes in his surroundings. Jared does not miss the one, two, three glances at his chair or the ropes hanging from the support beams. 

Helping himself to what’s left, Jared yawns. He wheels himself back towards his bed. 

“I was born with an underdeveloped spinal cord,” he says, conscious of the slight movements to his guest’s ears signaling his attention. “My parents took me to see a doctor in town--a human town. We started with braces, then crutches, things like that. Don’t think there’s much else to do. Now, I go there once a year for a check up. Have you ever seen fluorescent lights?” 

A head tilt. 

“Well,” Jared continues with a small laugh. “They’re awful.” 

The slightest of nods. 

“I don’t spend much time as a four paw. We haven’t figured out a good chair for that yet.” He motions to a dusty section of the yurt where Jared keeps a spare chair and the rudimentary paw-chair his youngest siblings attempted to design for him. “Maybe you spend more time as a four paw?” 

Immediately, the stranger bows his head again and looks away, avoiding eye contact. His fur bristles and he lies down, paws out in front of him and tail curled in. 

“I talk too much,” Jared admits. He snuffs out all but one candle. “And it’s better if we rest now anyway. I’m placing a great deal of trust in you for the next few hours. It’s not easy to get out of that harness, but it’s not impossible either.” He lifts up his dagger for the briefest moment. “That and I know how to defend myself.”

Wheeled back to his bed, Jared reaches for the ropes and lifts himself back onto the mattress. 

“So, I place no blame if when I wake up, you’ve taken your leave. There’s not much to take, just in case your mind wanders towards that, but you’re welcome to a change of clothes if you’d like to shift, or some bread. If you stay, tomorrow, I can take a look at that gash first thing and show you the best spring to rinse off in.” 

Green eyes dart from where Jared rests to the lantern to the fire pit. The guest carefully weighs his options. 

Without moving from his place beside the fire pit, the guest scratches at his muzzle, then stretches his paws out and rolls onto his side. 

Jared glances at the tiny bit of his guest’s tawny underbelly and smiles to himself. 

He tosses over a blanket, then settles in underneath his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <333


	4. Chapter 4

Since he was a pup, Jared has always been an early riser. 

It annoyed the hell out of his littermates, but pleased his omfa. Business begins with the sun.

One of six in his litter, the first few slivers of morning were often the only opportunities for his omfa’s undivided attention. As soon as Jared was strong enough to wheel himself in a chair, he joined omfa for a morning patrol of the pack’s territory. 

Unable to join his littermates in routine exercises, Jared paid strict attention to lessons in tracking, observation, and landscape. From the elders, he learned about what others regarded as only background--ancient trees, native wildflowers and grasses, ridges, trails, creeks, ravines, and rock formations. He picked up on reading signs from nature--how the drop or spike in air pressure could help predict the weather, how to know when to plant, when to harvest, the arrival of spring, and how cruel the coming winter might be. 

Jared stretches and sits up in bed. He picks up the scent of his guest right away, so different than his own or any other member of his pack. Beneath the mud and dust of the wilderness, Jared teases out the scent of balsamroot and pine. 

Peering over the fire pit, Jared notices that his guest had shifted into two paw form. 

Aside from the dried blood around his right eye, bruises, and a few scrapes, he doesn’t look to have suffered any major injuries from his journey. 

What must have happened to make him run? 

He’s clearly physically healthy, judging by the tone and weight to his frame. Jared reads him as an alpha by scent and form. What reason could there be for a healthy, possibly attractive alpha to leave his pack? 

Jared lights a lantern and takes a closer look.

Definitely handsome.

Not that it matters. He has work to do. And if his guest intends on staying, his guest must fall into step. Jared lifts himself into his chair, then uses a broom to reach over and nudge his guest awake. 

With a snort, his guest swats at the broom. 

“Up,” Jared chirps. “Wake up.”

“Not yet,” the guest growls. “Early.”

“You’re worse than a pup. Also, you can talk.”

“Clearly so can you.”

Jared huffs and opens the circular vent to the yurt. “I enjoy conversation,” he grunts, straining to pull on the flap. “And don’t really need a response from my audience to do so.”

Sunlight pours into the yurt. Quite a difference from yesterday’s gloom. 

“My head hurts.” The guest scrubs at his face and covers his eyes. “Was that necessary?”

“Yes. It’ll be a rough winter. I intend on enjoying every sunny day until then. C’mon.” Jared motions to the opening of the yurt. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then we’ll see about food.” 

At the edge of the freshwater creek, Jared learns his guest’s name.

Jensen--of the Sawtooth pack.

In his four paw form, Jensen tests the water of the creek. He licks his paw and sniffs the air. His eyes land on Jared for a fleeting second before he darts into the creek. 

Jared shakes his head and smiles at Jensen’s burst of energy. While Jensen rolls around in shallow areas, Jared casts a bucket and pulls in water to clean off his chair. Finished with that task, he hauls in another bucket, takes out two rags, and uses one to wash his face. With care, he tilts back and pours cold, clean water through his hair. 

Finished, Jared uses the dry rag to dry off his hair.

He looks over to Jensen and their eyes meet again. 

No longer in his defensive position, Jensen’s tails swishes. He breaks their eye contact only to investigate a noise further down the creek. His ears perk up and he quickly follows the noise. Jared rolls forward on a smooth, paved trail adjacent to the creek. 

Orange and yellow agoseris flowers bloom along the path. 

The noise proves to be fish. 

“Mind the rocks,” Jared calls out. He wheels as close to the water as he dares. 

Jensen tosses his head, confident, completely ignoring the warning. It’s not just that the rocks can be slippery, it’s also the fact that Jensen ran for days without much rest or sustenance, and that kind of thing doesn’t disappear with two bowls of stew and a bath. 

Jared searches through the pouch attached to his chair and digs out a length of rope. He ties a Jensen-sized loop, ready to lasso at the slightest hint of trouble. 

Head tilted, crouched down, Jensen studies the water. Jared notices the elegant form of Jensen’s stance and the size of his paws. He seems capable of the task ahead. 

A combination of eagerness and hunger help Jensen dive forward.

He snatches a trout from the stream--brisk, rapid, and abrupt. 

And… he almost succeeds in executing his plan. Almost. The trout manages to smack him in the muzzle more than once, twist itself from out of his teeth, and lands back into the stream with a loud splash.

Jared sighs, shakes his head, and tries not to laugh too hard. 

He whistles and motions for Jensen to get back onto land. Jensen shakes water off of himself, mindful not to get any on Jared, then sits in front of Jared, head tilted to the right. 

“It might sting less in your four paw form,” Jared says, tucking away the lasso and bringing out his first-aid kit. “Put your front paws on my lap and I’ll patch you up right quick.”

The forest and its surrounding landscape have been the constant background of Jared’s entire life. Unlike the Sawtooth pack, the Sagebrush pack prefers their greener wild lands. Due to their constant exposure to the sun, the few Sawtooth pack members Jared had seen before always had lighter coats. Jensen’s coat shines in the sunlight, even as it dries, and Jared almost reaches to scratch behind one of Jensen’s ears. 

Almost. 

He corrects his foolish behavior and gets on with tending to the scratch above Jensen’s left eye. It would be best for him to completely ignore the weight of Jensen’s paws on his lap. How natural and familiar their closeness in proximity feels. The sudden urge to pull Jensen closer.

Heat pools in Jared’s face. He dabs the scratch with witch hazel, then finds a few more scratches and repeats. 

Behind them, the rush of the spring continues. Around them, tall grass bends and moves with the morning wind. Clusters of white snakeroot flowers add a sweet scent to the air, entwined with a richer, deeper scent. 

Jensen closes his eyes and bares his throat, relaxed and at ease. 

Jared lets out a whine. Instinct shouts at him to shift, pin Jensen down, and bite Jensen until the alpha howls out--chosen, claimed, and marked. 

The sound of a twig snapping hits them both like a bolt of lightning. 

Jumping back, Jensen stands on the defensive, ears forward, lips pulled back, and tail kept close. His eyes dart around, searching for the source of the snap. Jared shuts his eyes and shakes his head. 

“Just a rabbit,” Jared breathes, eyes open once again. 

With a huff, Jensen’s shoulders bristle. He paces and waits for Jared to make the next call.

Whenever a member of the Sawtooth pack would visit, Jared’s omfa would share details of the other pack’s traditions and ways of life. The Sawtooth omegas, he remembers, generally follow the lead of their alphas. 

In the Sagebrush pack, the alphas follow the lead of their omegas. 

So why bare this throat to Jared? 

It doesn’t matter, Jared tells himself, and snorts. He turns back to the path and wheels towards his yurt. Jensen follows, never more than a few paws behind.

Things are complicated enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so glad y'all are enjoying this fic! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Content!

In the next three days, a rhythm and a cadence between Jared and Jensen develops. 

Jared lends Jensen a clean blanket and a set of clothes should he prefer to shift into two paw form and stay warm. Jared continues to wear his usual two paw clothing--a simple, cotton shirt and trousers, and a sarape slung over the back of his chair should he need it. 

He starts to tie his hair up and pulled back.

He tells himself it’s easier this way--he won’t have to push his hair out of his face so often. 

No other reason.

The two of them continue to exist in the same space at the same time without constant conversation or overwhelming tension in the air. Jensen takes up a few chores, like cleaning the ash from the fire pit, and Jared makes meals for two.

Everytime Jensen tosses a look, Jared catches it.

Until he can’t be completely certain that his look isn’t a  _ look _ . 

None of the alphas in his pack held Jared's attention. Not that his omfa didn’t try and nudge him towards a few in his age-range. 

The closest Jared ever dared to tread with an alpha was with Kaz, his most trusted friend since puphood. 

But something didn’t feel right. Didn’t smell right. 

Shortly after, Kaz found his omega mate, Bishop. They’ve been happily mated for two years.

Jared wished them all the happiness in the world. 

From time to time, he would wonder what meeting a mate entails. Would it be an instant attraction? Gradual? A combination? Should there be displays of skill and ability to clinch the connection? 

What could he do to impress an alpha? 

In the Sagebrush pack, alphas work to impress omegas throughout the year, but most especially during mating season. Alphas are expected to take every opportunity to show off their physical prowess to omegas, serving as proof that they would make good providers. Omegas from a young age are taught to look for the mark of a quality alpha: strength, agility, mastery of hunting and tracking, and dedication to both omega and the pack. 

When he lived with the pack, Jared knew what he needed to look for, but ultimately never found it. And as polite as many alphas were, he understood their hesitation in singling him out. No one would dare to say it out loud, but he knew. 

Some of the human doctors advised Jared not to attempt having pups. It might put too much strain on his spine. He might pass his condition to them. 

What spurred him to move on the fringe of their territory wasn’t anyone’s particular rejection. 

Instead, every alpha that did approach him treated him like glass.

And when his omfa attempted to make arrangements, Jared insisted on participation in matchmaking--courtship included. 

Everyone tried to gloss over his chair and do everything for him, often without asking first. They would barrel past his capabilities or accommodations and take over.

Not a single suitor except for Kaz stopped to think that maybe, despite the chair, he could accomplish as much as anyone else. Everyone saw the chair first and Jared second. It became more stressful interacting with them. Jared grew to resent his chair and his legs. 

Any relationship built on the assumed weakness or frailty of one partner is no relationship he wants any part of. 

Since then, he’s never given much thought to finding a mate again, not even during his heats. 

Living outside of the pack provides him with independence. It’s a form of independence he treasures. No matter how well-meaning, the majority of pack members would inevitably smother him with attention and assistance. 

Visits from Kaz or his littermates for help on occasion appeased any need for socialization. 

After breakfast, Jared decides to wheel out to the field and search for the last few root vegetables in the garden, one chore he’s never enjoyed.

A tawny tail follows him. 

Clouds in the sky produce an overcast day. Fog settles on the horizon, mixing like wisps of smoke with the treeline. Jared closes his eyes to focus on the intensity of the wind and the dip in pressure.

With his nose, Jensen nudges Jared’s hand. 

“Yes?” Jared makes eye contact with Jensen. “It’s going to rain later.” 

Jensen tilts his head, nods, then nods towards the yurt. 

Jared shakes his head and wheels forward. “No, we have some time before it rains. If we find enough vegetables, I can use them to make stew for tonight.”

Trotting alongside, Jensen barks his approval. He did well yesterday and caught two rabbits, which resulted in leftovers. With Jensen around, Jared has eaten more fresh meat in the past few days than he has in the last few months. 

He forgot how good fresh meat tastes instead of salted or dried slabs. 

“Just dig until you hit something,” Jared instructs, lifting up a small shovel he attached with rope to the back of his chair. “Then toss it in the basket.” 

Within two minutes, Jensen digs up his first potato. He yips in excitement, carries it in his mouth, then proudly tosses it into the basket. He works efficiently, his tail swishing in concentration as he sniffs the ground, hoping for clues. His large paws leave a smattering of paw prints across the garden. 

It seems to Jared that Jensen enjoys being outside. 

He tries to encourage it as he can and as the weather allows. Rested and well-fed, Jensen’s energy increases daily. However, despite the improvement since their meeting, Jensen remains quiet about his pack and the reason for his departure. He also hasn’t shared with Jared what he intends to do going forward. 

The future is a far away nuisance, though Jared understands they will have to talk about it sooner, rather than later. 

Jensen can’t stay without eventually being noticed by the rest of the Sagebrush pack.

“Well,” Jared says, fighting with the shovel, now caught on a root. “You’ll have to visit in the summertime. I could definitely use the help for the harvest. Over there I’ve got tomatoes, peas, beans, lettuce, and berries. Around here, I’ve got potatoes, beets, carrots, and turnips.” 

The root grips onto the shovel as if it had hands and fingers. Grunting, Jared pulls, twists, and shakes the shovel. This is exactly why he hates this chore. His chair tilts a half an inch off the ground as he leverages his weight. 

Jensen barks in acknowledgement to the mention about summer, then pauses and walks back to Jared. 

He shifts into his two paw form, kneeling down. Jared notices Jensen’s hands are covered in dirt--though, Jensen doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Do you…” Jensen clears his throat. He fights to maintain eye contact. “Do you need help?”

Jared smiles and shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. The shovel’s being stubborn.” 

One good pull and Jared yanks the shovel free--thankfully without tipping over. 

With a nod, Jensen shifts back into his four paw form, and continues with his work. 

It was nice of him to ask. 

And meant more than perhaps he knows to let Jared take the lead on that question. 

They fill the basket minutes before it begins to rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the folks who had early access to this fic when it was originally published, you'll notice this chapter has added content. :) 
> 
> i hope y'all are enjoying this! i am considering making this into its own verse. comments are love! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *new content chapter*

Two weeks pass by in an instant.

Jared keeps a careful eye on the moon all the while, watching it gradually change before they turn in for the night. At night, by the fire, Jared informs Jensen about Kaz’s impending visit on the new moon. 

If the news worries Jensen, he doesn't show it. 

Though Jensen stays in his four paw form for the rest of the evening.

Overnight, Jared wakes up with pain in his hips and legs. His dream slips away from him as muscle cramps slot into its place. He tries to hold onto his dream, like tugging at a piece of frayed leather. It had elements of the forest--falling leaves, the scent of pine, and knobby roots underfoot. 

He fights through the pain for a span of time until he tries to turn and lets out a whine. 

Within seconds, Jensen darts over, his ears alert and tail swishing. He noses Jared’s hand. 

“Hurts,” Jared mutters, eyes shut. 

Jensen’s voice in the dark feels like the softest clearing. “What helps when it hurts?”

“Heat and pressure. I need to get my hot water bottle.” 

“...the fire’s out. Hold on.” 

The change in seasons always creates restless nights and fatigued days. Every year, Jared tries to prepare for more days in bed than wheeling around his yurt or territory. This year, he’s been decidedly distracted, and pain decided to catch him off guard.

He’ll need to ask Kaz for more salve. 

Crickets chirp in the inky distance. If Jared concentrates enough, he can pick up scents from the wildflower patch outside the entrance of the yurt. Honeysuckle. Skullcap. Arrowhead. Clover.

Jensen.

Jensen jumps onto the bed, in his four paw form, and applies the gentlest pressure onto Jared’s legs. His warm, large paws provide almost instant relief. 

Little by little, Jensen adds more of his weight. Jared detaches from the space in his mind directly connected to pain. The ache remains, though it moves to the side, away from view. Before Jared can give his thanks, he slips away from pain and back into sleep. 

Late morning arrives in a wash of sunlight and the smell of fried potatoes.

Tranquil and rested, Jared wakes up to breakfast already made and waiting for him. 

“Mornin’,” Jensen rumbles, taking a seat on the edge of Jared’s bed. “I thought the smell would wake you up.” 

Jared scrubs at his face and runs a hand through his hair. His voice comes out deeper than he means it, still trying to shake away sleep. “Yuh huh. That looks good.”

From a few preliminary glances, it looks like Jensen took the trouble to start a fire and fry up potatoes with a few fish. He must have waded in the creek early this morning. While the food provides a delectable sight and scent, Jared finds himself paying more attention to the sight and scent of the alpha in front of him. 

Confident about the meal he prepared, Jensen nudges the plate closer. 

“I thought I’d try to make breakfast,” he murmurs. “Hope it’s okay.”

The absence of pain in his legs tells Jared that the weather vastly improved overnight. He reaches for a strap and pulls himself to a sitting position, careful not to disturb the plate nearby. When he finishes situating himself, Jensen hands him a plate and fork. 

One bite in and Jared provides several compliments to the chef. Jensen joins him, still in his two paw form, and they quickly finish. Without hesitation, Jared accepts a second helping, pleased with the meal. Jensen fried the potatoes until crispy in rabbit grease, separate from the fish, and he managed to figure out Jared’s assortment of herbs and seasonings. 

“Did you cook a lot in your pack?” Jared stretches and ties back his hair. 

Collecting their plates, Jensen moves to wash up, turned away from Jared at the moment. His shoulders, however, reflect the impact of the question. 

“Nope. Omegas do that.”

“Hmm. Would you prefer it if I cooked all our meals?” 

“No,” he quickly answers, turning around. His eyes appear clear and expressive, though tinged with worry. “I… I like cooking.” 

With a smile, Jared tries to ease Jensen into more conversation. “You do it well. Our alphas and omegas tend to share these sorts of responsibilities.”

“Yeah?” 

“It’s also a matter of preference. Kaz hates to cook, so it suits him that he found a mate who enjoys it.”

“Do you… uh, do you enjoy it?”

Jared shrugs, then reaches for the straps near his bed. “Sometimes. Most of the time, it’s just something I have to do. It’s been good cooking for someone else though. And the fresh meat has been great.” 

Jensen starts washing the few dishes and pans he used. “Maybe we can go hunting today.”

“I’d have to sharpen my spears,” Jared murmurs, lifting himself into his chair. He starts to dress himself, fighting with his legs as usual. “As long as you don’t mind hunting with an omega.”

“Oh yeah,” Jensen snorts. “I’d definitely mind.”

“Well, one can’t be too careful with alphas,” Jared continues to tease. He wheels over to the sink and looks up. “Do you think such an alpha would mind helping an omega with their clothing?”

“Let me dry my hands.” Jensen reaches for a rag, his motions quick and eager. He kneels and smooths out the bunch of fabric around Jared’s knees. “Can you stand?”

“I can hold onto your shoulders and try,” Jared says, the words a complete surprise to his own ears. “Uh, well, that’s how I do it when Kaz helps.”

He looks at Jensen. 

Jensen looks at him, then pointedly looks away. He tries to hide a growl.

Jared briefly entertains the thought of rushing into another chore and never mentioning out loud the blush that spreads across their faces. Instead, his wolf provides persuasive, instinctive instruction.

Tentatively, Jared reaches out and runs a hand through Jensen’s hair.

The morning’s fire extinguishes. 

And Jensen leans into the touch, relaxed. 

Without words, the two of them dress and head out for the forest--alpha and omega intent on conquering the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, i maked dis. 
> 
> i'm struggling with EDS. mobility, and situational stuff right now, but i'll bounce back. these things just take time. thank you for being here. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *new content/chapter*  
> cn: hunting in this chapter

Pups in the Sagebrush pack grow up learning to respect nature. 

Jared considers the forest his second home. 

Sunlight peeks through the canopy of stately oak, beech, maple, and hickory trees. Jared checks on his favorite hickory tree. He places his hand on a series of claw marks he and his omfa left years ago, when he first started living away from the pack. 

How long has it been since Jared last went on a hunt in the forest? 

Typically, he’ll set traps at the edge of the forest or go fishing in the creek. When neither of those things pan out, he relies on his store of dried and cured meat until Kaz or his littermates can bring him replenishments. He’s tried hunting alone before, but often found it difficult to manage his chair, his weapons, and his prey all at once. 

A chair in the forest doesn’t exactly stay quiet, either, despite the soft path that eventually takes him to the pack.

Jensen circles around the wide trunk of an oak tree with an array of outstretched, winding, scraggly branches. His ears move in a series of directions, trying to follow the different sounds around them--birds, critters, rustling leaves.

They decided to bring one of Jared’s spears, but not the travois--the same travois Jared hauled Jensen in with from the rain. They might not find any large prey at all, and it seemed best to leave it. Larger prey would be fortuitous, but they would be just as happy with a few rabbits or perhaps even a wild turkey.

Brilliant red and orange maple leaves scattered along the ground and solitary path look like clusters of fire. 

Jared wheels over twigs and roots with care, satisfied with the crunch and scent of fallen leaves. His omfa taught him that even the trees need a break from carrying the weight of their leaves. 

Wintertime is a time of rest for all living things. 

The cold season will be here before they know it.

Rolling onwards, Jared and Jensen take turns leading. Jared points out different markers, certain stones he likes, trees that provide the best shade in the summer, and the prettiest birds. 

The terrain gradually changes around them as they wander deeper within the forest. Flat earth becomes gentle slopes, which transform into steep, rocky hills. They pass bunches of emerald green plants and twisted ivy. Moss stubbornly covers gnarled tree trunks. 

From a distance, a new sound emerges. 

Jensen barks and his tail moves in excitement. He looks to Jared for permission to run ahead. Jared waves him off with a laugh, and watches the tawny bullet leap towards the sound of an ancestral waterfall. 

Crystal clear water tumbles down protective cliffs in a rhythm known to Jared’s oldest ancestors.

The scent of fresh, clean water couples with the scent of its newest visitor, who looks on in awe. Jensen approaches the waterfall with caution at first, taking care to find his footing on the rocks. He dips his front right paw into the pool and perks up. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Jensen yips, tongue hanging out. 

“That’s gotta be freezing,” Jared shouts from the trail. “Don’t go in too long or too deep.” 

Jensen motions with his muzzle for Jared to join him. 

Jared shakes his head. “My chair isn’t made for that. And it’s too cold for me anyway. Go, enjoy. I’m fine here.” 

With hesitation, Jensen looks back at the waterfall. His tail hangs down, relaxed, and his tongue lolls out. Jared contemplates what the Sawtooth pack allows their pups to do for fun. There’s another waterfall on the west side of the pack’s main dwellings. There, parents take pups in groups to become familiar with the water and learn how to swim. 

Jared used to hold onto his omfa as they waded through the pool in the summer. Sometimes, omfa would allow Jared to ride on Kaz’s back or float on a flat piece of tree bark. 

Happy memories keep him company as Jensen dives into the water. 

A strong swimmer, Jensen relishes the waterfall. He runs in circles along the shallow ends, his large paws steady against the smooth rocks. Like a pup, he finds a stick and carries it in his mouth, tossing and retrieving it from the water with boundless energy. 

Abruptly, Jensen stops, something having caught his attention along the bedrock. 

Not a minute later, Jensen leaves the water, shakes himself dry, and trots back to the trail. He holds a prize in his mouth, and motions to give it to Jared. 

Hand extended, Jared curiously accepts the gift. 

“Oh!” Jared’s eyes widen at the sight of a large, crimson pebble. “It looks kind of like… a heart.”

Jensen nods. They look at each other for a moment. Jared curls his fingers around the pebble. 

“Thank you,” he says to his Sawtooth guest. “I… I like it, very much.” 

Shifting into his two paw form, crouched in front of Jared, Jensen looks back at the water. “It’s the only one like that in there.”

Jared smiles. He places the pebble on his lap and hands Jensen his sarape. “It’s the only one I wanted.” 

Jensen returns the smile. He proudly wears Jared’s sarape and walks alongside him on the trail. They take their time, stopping to rest in the patches of warm, buttery sunlight they find. Birds continue their calls, unbothered by their company. Fully dry, Jensen respectfully slips off the sarape to hand back to Jared, and shifts again. He chases after a few rabbits, running in zig-zags, his tawny coat bright in pockets of sunlight. 

Determined, he catches one. Jared reciprocates with praise for the effort and the success as he accepts the gift. He promises to make a pan of biscuits to go with it later. 

A while later, Jensen catches the scent of something else, and leaves for a window of time. He promises to return within the hour.

After cataloguing a few leaves in his notebook, picking herbs and flowers he spots growing underneath a wall of ferns, Jared sketches a fallen beech tree. He minds the position of the sun in the sky and expects Jensen to arrive any minute. Jared listens for him, sniffs out his scent, and tracks his movements. 

Concern grows in the pit of his stomach when Jensen roams farther than Jared is capable of tracking. 

Wheeling in the direction Jensen left, Jared reminds himself to remain calm--until he smells blood.

“Jensen!” Jared rolls forward, his chair creaking with the increased speed. “Jensen!” 

If he has to, he’ll shift and howl. Briefly, he catches Jensen’s scent and rolls off the path to follow it. In his haste, he hits a large root, which causes his chair to rattle, and delays his movement. He growls in frustration, turning his wheels and fighting with the footplates. Then, adding to his simmering anger, a set of stones blocks his way, which forces him to maneuver backwards. 

Working hard to navigate the forest floor and track Jensen, Jared starts breathing hard.

His hands and wrists ache. Why did he let Jensen out of his sight and off the trail? How could he have been so foolish? So careless? So thoughtless? 

One second away from reaching full panic, Jared spots a deer in the trees--and a Sawtooth alpha on its heels. 

In a cascade of fluid movements fueled by adrenaline and frustration, Jared reaches for the one spear strapped to the back of his chair and brings down their prey. 

Immediately after, he snaps at Jensen. 

“Don’t make me worry like that! You could have given me a warning! A signal! Anything!” 

Jensen tucks his tail between his legs and hangs his head in apology, then shifts and offers a verbal apology. 

Jared runs a hand through his hair and lets out a sigh. He adjusts his tone, trying not to take away from the alpha’s pride in hunting. “It’s fine. I was just worried.” 

“I got us dinner though.”

“Yes. Thank you. That’s very good.”

“You have amazing aim,” Jensen says, handing Jared back his spear. He attempts a smile to break the momentary tension. “You know, for an omega.”

“Shut up,” Jared snorts and rolls his eyes. “It looked like a certain alpha could use a hand. Well.” He adjusts the armrests on his chair. “Do you know how to make a travois?” 

“Uhh… nope.”

“So were you planning on just… dragging it back to the yurt?” 

“Yup.” Jensen scratches his head. “Pretty much.”

“Ugh. Alphas,” Jared smirks and points to a few fallen maple branches nearby. “Listen up, alpha. I’ll be teaching you something new. See those? Pick two that are long enough, and use my dagger to cut off any smaller branches. After that, try to get some saplings, they’re easier to work with.” 

Jared shows Jensen how to tie together the two long branches as the framework. He points out the importance of using lightweight wood. He instructs Jensen on how to hold and use the dagger in the most efficient way, and how to add notches to the tops of the poles so they hold firm while being dragged. He provides ropes from his bag, and together, they create a working travois suitable for hauling back their food. 

Jensen looks to Jared for the next set of instructions. 

Pleased, Jared roots around his bag once more. 

“It may be easier for you to do this as a two paw,” Jared says, keeping his tone casual and light. “But I can hook you up to it as a four paw too, whichever you prefer.” He holds up a harness and set of leather straps. 

Head tilted, Jensen considers his options. He taps his chin and looks back and forth from the travois to Jared. 

“Can we try something else?” 

“What else is there to try?”

With a touch of shyness reminiscent to the first wildflowers reaching towards the springtime sun, Jensen outlines his plan. His words remain plain and simple, however, they hold weight.

And despite Jared’s initial objection about the weight, the trouble, and potential fatigue, Jensen reassures him that he can handle it. He would not have made the suggestion otherwise.

Jensen ties the travois securely to the frame of Jared’s chair. 

After he shifts, Jared fits the system of straps and harness onto Jensen. One strap goes around the front of Jensen, while another goes under his belly. The harness fits perfectly, not too loose, not too tight. 

All the way back to the yurt, Jensen pulls Jared and the travois without any difficulty. 

Jared holds the pebble from the waterfall securely in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, my dears. i am so glad and grateful to post an update, especially to this story. these are difficult times for all of us in many ways. i hope that you are staying safe, happy, and healthy. please reach out to your support systems, don't suffer alone.
> 
> as y'all know, i have lots of conditions that make me high risk for pretty much everything. i'm doing my best taking care of myself in self isolation while my state is on lock down. sometimes it's difficult to concentrate--the dissociation is strong in this one. but i'm okay. i'm taking this day by day. 
> 
> so. with all that. i hope you enjoyed this chapter. i got a lot of inspiration from watching a 4k forest tour on youtube, i highly recommend watching something like that right now. super soothing. offering and sending big social distancing hugs. take care of yourselves, and an immense thank you to all our essential staff. #stayhome <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *new content chapter*
> 
> cn: hunting-related activities

For three days, Jared and Jensen feast on fresh venison. 

Jared instructs Jensen on how to properly clean their kill, what to save, what to look for, and how to hold the dagger. 

Jensen shares that the Sawtooth pack typically eats in their four paw forms. They don’t fuss with the carcass and prefer their meals raw. He struggles with trimming the fat off the sides of the meat, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

It’s messy work, but a necessity, as most will be stored for winter. 

“There’s no shortage of chores around here, huh,” Jensen groans, hauling select pieces over to the small closed wood fire on the far edge of Jared’s territory. 

“I am never lacking in things to do,” Jared laughs. “If it’s too much for you,  _ alpha _ , I’m happy to take over.”

Puffing out his chest, Jensen quips, “Ain’t too much. I was just saying. You know. It’s…” Jensen looks down at the ground. “It’s a lot of work for one person, especially if it snows a lot around here.”

“Oh, it’ll snow about five or six feet on good days.” Jared tosses hardwood chips into the pit, then wheels back. “Alright, see those hooks? Hang ‘em up, then close the door. We’ll keep an eye on it the rest of the day. That fire should last a while.” 

Maybe Jensen meant more than his comment about one person. But if he wanted to expand on it, he shows no signs. 

Jared can't extend an invitation to Jensen to stay, either. Not without permission from his omfa and the pack. Jensen knows that. The limbo they're in they've created on their own.  They'll have to be the ones to get out of it. 

But Jared has to leave it up to Jensen to determine what he really wants. The decision must be made without interference. 

Smoke rises from an opening in the pit, prompting the two to take a pair of satisfying deep breaths. Jared might give in and split one of the pieces with Jensen before storing the rest tomorrow. 

Next, they turn to drying out meat and packing fat into glass jars. Last night, they enjoyed potatoes and carrots fried in some of this fat. Not only does fat help add more to otherwise lean meals in wintertime, it helps keep their coats thick and skin soft. 

At a work bench behind the yurt, Jensen continues cutting while Jared prepares a salt solution--he stirs salt into a large jug of water used specifically for this purpose. Kaz built a box out of pine and left it propped up on a stone--tall enough to keep scavengers from accessing it, while still being accessible to Jared in his chair. 

“You ready?” Jensen murmurs, holding up a strip of meat. “Is this thick enough?” 

“Go a shade thinner, actually,” Jared answers. He takes the meat from Jensen, then hangs it up by a metal clip. “I have plenty of clips.”

“I’d put mine in a tree sometimes.”

“I hope you’d turn it over occasionally.”

“Eh, if I had time.”

“Then it never dried properly.” 

“Tasted fine to me.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “And what if a bird flew by and used your meat as a latrine?” 

“Then I’d hunt that bird down and have more meat.”

“Uh huh.” 

Overhead, clouds gather together in large gray patches, like a quilt over the sun. The temperature drops, and judging by Jensen’s faster movements, he feels it too. They pick up the pace to finish this chore and move onto the next. Jared dips strips and pieces of meat into the salt solution, then hangs them up with care. 

With the smoker and the cupboard full, they move onto clay jars. 

Jensen watches as Jared explains and packs two clay jars with the remainder of the meat. He covers each piece with salt and molasses, then packs them into each jar, layering them with sections of cloth for this specific purpose. 

Sealing each jar, Jared finishes, and they begin the task of cleaning up. Jensen sets aside a few larger bones from the carcass, then hauls off the little they did not use. He follows Jared’s instructions to bury it in a certain section on the perimeter of Jared’s territory.

While Jensen works on that, Jared wipes down the work station, cleans his hands, and wheels over to the tool shed. He puts everything back in place--the saw, some leftover metal clips, the dagger used only for meat, and whatever else they both used. 

His omfa would be proud. Everything has a place. Organization is key to survival. 

On that note, omfa would probably add, “Every _ one _ has their place.” 

Jensen returns in his four paw form, trotting along, tail swishing, content to have completed his assigned task. He shifts to clean his hands and haul the clay jars into the yurt, where he places them next to the odds and ends area, furthest away from the fire pit.

Could a Sawtooth alpha be content to follow the instructions and lead of an omega for a long period of time? 

Not just days or weeks, but months and years? 

Mated pairs mate for life. Would resentment build over time? Could a pair bonding withstand differences in opinion and instinct? 

Back in his four paw form, Jensen circles the yurt a few times, then settles on a playful stance in front of Jared--crouched forward, front legs splayed wide, wagging tail in the air. 

“You want a reward for all that work, huh?” Jared snickers and shakes his head. 

Jensen yips and carefully zigzags in the limited space. With his muzzle, he gestures to outside the yurt. He must want to go on a run in the forest.

Jared grabs his sarape and pulls it on, then his gloves. “I’m a little tired,” he admits. “So let’s not go too far.” 

Without hesitation, Jensen drags over the harness from the travois, his eyes alert. He drops it into Jared’s lap, then assumes position to be fitted. 

“No,” Jared says, careful with his tone. He pats Jensen’s flank. “Better that I do this on my own, please.” 

Jensen’s ears drop for a second. He takes the harness and places it back near his sleeping area. 

Could that mean… a sense of ownership over the harness? 

Doubt and hope fight over Jared’s emotions, as if fighting for the last shred of meat on a bone. He reaches out with his hand and scratches Jensen behind the ears. He recognizes that the gesture of reassurance goes both ways. 

Jensen’s winter coat, mostly grown in by now, makes for a soft, warm touch. 

Until a sound from outside triggers Jensen’s fur to rise and ears to stick up straight. He growls, teeth bared, snout wrinkled, and pokes his head out of the yurt. Jared wheels over to join him, listening, trying to pick up on the source of Jensen’s agitation. 

Could it be Kaz? If so, he’s a week early. 

“Easy,” Jared coos, wheeling forward. “Take it easy.” 

Shifting to his two paw form, Jensen stands beside Jared. Having figured out how to shift back and forth with fabrics, Jensen adjusts the sweater Jared lent him. 

“It’s a machine,” Jensen grumbles. “I can hear it. I don’t know what it is.” 

“A machine?” 

Jensen nods. “With wheels.” 

“Oh!” Jared rolls forward, down the path, towards the edge of the forest line. “I hear it now. It’s Ruth!” 

Racing forward to catch up with Jared, Jensen snaps, “Wait a second! Don’t just go… in front of me like that!” 

“Why?” Jared stops on a dime and glances up at Jensen. “It’s only Ruth.” A second thought hits him, this one incredibly uncomfortable and feeding into his doubt. “Or was I supposed to stay behind?”

Brow furrowed, Jensen snorts. He shakes his head and seems to debate with himself about his next few actions and words. Practicing patience, Jared waits. The machine Jensen heard sounds closer by the second. 

Jensen kneels in front of Jared and drops his head in a clear sign of submission. His words tumble out quickly, aware of the rumble headed towards them. 

“I would only want you behind me to place myself between you and the machine. You may know what this ‘Root’ is, but I don’t.” 

Before Jared can apologize or explain, Jensen shifts, and assumes a position of defense any alpha in the Sagebrush pack would immediately recognize--omegas must be protected at all costs.

The source of all this tension stops a good length away from their location on the path.

A proper alpha recognizes threats to their omegas and the pack overall. They fall in line with the understanding that minimal threats still represent a threat. 

Protection, even over protection, is a better response than indifference. 

Jared quietly apologizes. 

Then continues to lead the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, hello, my dears. i am rapidly falling more in love with this verse. i can't recommend "living with wolves" as a documentary/source enough. 
> 
> i hope you're all as well as we can be right now. i'm on day 21 of physical isolation/distancing. i take walks in my driveway when the weather's good. my legs are giving me issues, but the sunlight is worth it. :)
> 
> biggest social distancing hugs to y'all. please take care. thank you for being here, thank you for reading. <3


	9. Chapter 9

Ranger Ruth disembarks from her black truck and enthusiastically waves at Jared. 

Jared slows to a stop a good distance away. He makes eye contact with Jensen and holds out his hand. Jensen hesitates for a split second, then places his muzzle in Jared’s palm as a sign of trust. 

Members of the Sagebrush pack understand the importance of contact with human Rangers. These are trusted individuals who work with the outside world to protect packs and their territories. They respect, as most humans do not, the delicate ecosystem at play and the crucial balance of all its elements. 

Necessity brought Jared together with humans and the outside world. He has been to two hospitals--the local, smaller one about an hour’s drive away from the pack, and the larger, regional one four hours away. With Ranger Ruth and his omfa, Jared visits each hospital once a year, six months apart. Two moons ago, Kaz accompanied them, as he has from time to time. 

He hasn’t had to explain human Rangers or introduce Ranger Ruth to anyone new in many moons.

With care, Jared places one hand on Jensen, near his scruff. Only after this, does he wave back to Ranger Ruth. He speaks to Jensen, low and soothing. “This is Ranger Ruth. I’ve known her since I was a pup.” 

Jensen bares his teeth, but doesn’t snarl, so Jared counts it as a win. He takes a deep breath and continues introductions.

“When my omfa and the pack realized my condition, they reached out to the human world. She checks in on me every now and then. I trust her.” Jared smooths Jensen’s fur down. “She takes me to doctor appointments in her truck. That’s the machine you heard.” 

Somewhat mollified, Jensen keeps his tail tucked in, though his shoulders remain stiff. 

Ranger Ruth walks towards them, maintaining open body language and avoiding any sudden movements. Her red, shoulder length hair resists its hair tie in the wind, letting a few fiery curls loose. The dark green jacket and khakis that make up her uniform accent her solid frame. 

Cheerfully, she calls out from ten feet away, a respectful distance. “Howdy, Jared ! It’s nice to see ya!” 

Jared keeps his hand on Jensen’s left ear, gently scratching. “Hello, Ranger Ruth!” 

Taking the lead, Jared eases them towards Ranger Ruth, who remains in place. 

Happy to see Ranger Ruth, Jared initiates an embrace, which she heartily returns. She had been clearing out one of the ranger stations, gearing up for winter, and decided some of the extra supplies might be useful to Jared. 

Ranger Ruth opens the bed of her truck and tugs out a large duffel bag. “I didn’t mean to interrupt ya,” she says with a smile. “Who’s your new friend?” 

“You’re fine. This is Jensen.” Jared pats Jensen’s shoulders. “He’s been helping me prepare for winter.” 

“That’s right nice of him,” she declares with an approving nod. “Hi there, Jensen. I’m Ruth.” She telegraphs her movements and gradually takes a knee. Patiently, she slowly extends her hand to Jensen, her motions calm as a ripple of water. 

At first, Jensen sniffs the air and inches forward, trying to identify the scent. He crouches, keeping his large paws close to the ground, moving at the pace of the world’s most cautious snail. Ruth never wavers. Jared watches, breathlessly hoping… 

Jensen snaps backwards. 

He growls, circles Jared, and stays glued to Jared’s chair. His eyes never leave Ruth. 

Better this reaction than an aggressive one. Jared and Ruth exchange a look. 

“It’s alright, I totally get it, I’m new,” Ruth asserts, stands, and holds her hands up as a gesture of openness. She pats the duffel bag. “Well. How about a ride to the yurt?”

The Sawtooth pack must not interact with hardly any humans at all. Jensen looks to Jared for the decision. 

“I think that would be fine,” Jared says, his tone tinged with caution. “But Jensen’s never been in a truck, I don’t think.” 

Jensen shakes his head and snorts. His tail twitches. 

Ruth nods and taps her chin. “It is a pretty cool experience, and very safe, especially for Jared.”

“We can ride in the bed,” Jared suggests. He meets Jensen’s eyes. “I’ve ridden in the bed many times before.” 

“Sure has,” Ruth echoes. “And I happen to have an ATV ramp and bungee cords that’ll make everything safe as can be.” 

After a few moments of quiet debate--glancing back and forth from the truck to Ruth to Jared--Jensen jumps up into the bed of the truck. Driven by anxiety and impatience, Jensen barks twice, a sign he’d like to get this over with. 

Jared and Ruth exchange a high five. 

Within two minutes, she rigs up the ramp, helps Jared wheel up, secures an array of bungee cords to substitute for seatbelts, and hops back into the driver’s seat. She shouts out a warning before turning on the engine, then pats the driver’s side door before smoothly driving forward. 

Jensen snarls at the first few dips and bumps. His ears lay flat against his head, clearly displeased with the experience. Jared can’t help but laugh. 

“You might be better off in your two paw form for this,” Jared muses, with a smile. “It’s not so bad then.” 

Hesitant, Jensen shifts and immediately hooks his right arm over the bed for stability. His expression remains an intriguing combination of irritation and fascination. He looks around the bed, peering at the various supplies and tools packed away. A pile of random items Ruth must have tossed into the bed along her patrol catches Jensen’s attention. He goes so far as to touch a discarded, child’s sized bicycle. 

Their truck ride lasts a few short minutes. Ruth pulls up to the yurt, assembles the ramp once again, and spots Jensen in his two paw form. 

“Oh,” she says, “wow.” 

Jared grins and pats Jensen’s shoulder. “My sentiments exactly.” 

Jensen rolls his eyes and hides the blush across his face. “Can I get out now?” 

“Yes,” Jared murmurs. “You can get out now. But don’t just---” Too late. Jensen hops out of the truck without Ruth opening the bed. “Okay, never mind.” 

Standing a few feet apart from Ruth, Jensen inches towards the truck. “I’d like to help him out, please.” 

Ruth steps aside and provides patient instructions on how to open the bed, set up the ramp, and help Jared roll safely down. She then shows him how to neatly pack everything back up and hauls the duffel bag over her shoulder. 

Inside the yurt, Jared accepts the gifts and supplies Ruth digs out of the bag--a new cast iron pan, a pair of gloves, two coats and some clothes, books from Ranger Paul, candles, matches, cheesecloth, salve, alcohol rub, medicine, and a package of Oreos for Kaz. 

“Oh, and a packet of seeds.” Ruth shakes the packet. “I swiped these from Ranger Trudy, so take good care of them.” 

Jared laughs and tucks the seeds away, under his pillow. “Safest spot I know.” 

“I suppose some of these clothes can fit our friend Jensen,” she announces. “If I’d have known, I’d have brought more stuff for the two of you to hunker down for the winter.” 

Jensen shifts back to his four paw form and lies down in his corner of the yurt, next to his elk bone and the harness from earlier. He starts chewing his bone, sulking and trying not to call too much attention to his mood. 

“I don’t know if Jensen wants to spend the winter with me.” Jared continues putting away things with Ruth’s help. “We really haven’t talked about it. I… think we’re both avoiding it.” 

Ruth adds the new books to Jared’s small stack of books. “No time like the present. Ranger Paul says we’re about to get a cold snap next week. And by the looks of it, Jensen isn’t from around here.” 

At this, Jensen picks his head up, ears flickering. He shifts, but stays sitting. “How do you know?” 

With a shrug, Ruth continues handing items to Jared to put away. “Oh, little things, I guess. Your coat is different. Most of the Sagebrush pack are used to us Rangers and our trucks. And I’ve been a Ranger in this territory for the past thirty years--if you were from here, I’d know it.”

Jensen narrows his eyes. “I’m not going back.” 

“No, I think anyone who’d leave their pack probably had a good reason to do so,” she comments. “And no pack in this part of the country has reported anyone missing, so as far as I’m concerned, you’re a free agent.” Ruth places a hand on Jared’s shoulder. “Though I do have  _ some _ concerns.”

Jared sighs and gives a curt nod. “He’s been helpful. He keeps me company.” 

“I pull my weight,” Jensen adds, now standing up. “I help when I can.” 

Ruth zips up the now empty duffel. She points to the firewood near the pit. “If I wanted to add more wood to the fire, Jared, I should probably ask you before doing so--don’t you think?”

Reality makes itself at home at the front of Jared’s mind. He looks down at his hands, rough from wheeling without gloves for the majority of the day. 

“Yes, I know,” he sighs. “Jensen and I can talk tonight about what he wants to do going forward.”

Satisfied, Ruth gives a nod. She makes eye contact with Jensen. “Whatever you decide to do, make sure it’s for the right reasons.” 

His expression soft, Jensen gives a nod in return. He takes a deep breath and asks, “Can I see some of the things you have in your truck?” 

“Of course. If you can use something, it’s yours.” Ruth turns to Jared. “You need help with anything before I leave?” 

Jensen ducks out of the yurt and proceeds to open the truck bed. Jared and Ruth stay inside for a quick moment. 

“I’ve known you since you were a pup small enough to hold in my hand,” Ruth teases, then pants his hand. “I trust your judgement. But I still don’t want to see you getting hurt.” 

“I appreciate that, you know I do. However, this was... completely unexpected,” Jared replies, wheeling towards the opening of the yurt. “But I can’t say it was completely unwelcome.” 

Ruth holds open the flap and the two of them join Jensen outside. She stands, shoulders back, hands on her hips. “I’m glad to hear that, Jared, I really am. I just wanna put it out there though--folks who share this much time together, they’re usually mates.” 

With that, she helps Jensen select a few items, shakes his hand, and hugs Jared close to her before leaving. 

She hollers from her truck, pulling away. “See you two in the Spring!” 

Just like that, it’s the two of them again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, this verse is super comforting to me right now. thanks to deb for helping out on this chapter. one more new content chapter after this. 
> 
> i hope y'all are staying safe and looking after each other. i'm doing my part by staying home and washing my hands like a boss.
> 
> let me know what you think of this chapter. comments are love.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **a new content chapter**

With the items he selected from Ranger Ruth, and a few other things in the yurt, Jensen uncharacteristically excused himself for the afternoon. 

Curious, but not wanting to pry, Jared offered up the workbench they had previously used and all available tools. He wheeled inside the yurt to organize and pack things away, and kept a careful ear on Jensen. 

As he cleans out the ashes from the fire pit, all kinds of questions and scenarios continue pawing at his mind. 

Most of all, Jared’s wolf keeps insisting that he should keep Jensen in his line of sight. 

Ridiculous. 

Jensen does not need a chaperone. He is a grown Sawtooth alpha, not a pup or a yearling. Jared finishes the chore, bagging up the ashes into a blanket used for this purpose. He drags it over to the entrance of the yurt, hopeful Jensen won’t mind taking it out to the pit near the garden. 

Jared shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Ranger Ruth was right. 

They can’t continue living like this. They don’t have to be mates--Jensen might not even be interested in the commitment after such a short period of time. Even if Jensen would be willing to begin an actual courtship, could he come to terms with the Sagebrush pack’s traditions and adhere to his responsibilities in a pack so different from his own? 

Time passes and Jared starts dinner. Best for his hands to remain occupied. 

He wishes Kaz could appear on the spot and offer some advice. But that would trigger an entire world of questions, issues, and, most likely, objections. 

Jared never thought to look outside his own pack for a mate. 

It just isn’t done. 

The bag of ashes taunts him. He should just do it himself. No need to ask Jensen to do it when he’s been doing it for countless moons and seasons on his own. 

“I finished,” Jensen announces, stepping into the yurt, wiping what looks like oil from his hands. He spots the bag of ashes and as if reading Jared’s mind, automatically picks it up. 

“You don’t have to,” Jared blurts out, frustrated with himself. “I’ll take it later.”

Jensen’s brow furrows. “It’s not a problem.”

“I… let’s worry about it after dinner.” 

“If you prefer. Do you need help with anything?” Jensen washes his hands in the sink. 

With ingredients already set out, Jared shakes his head. “No, no, I’ve got this. Sit and keep me company.” 

Mollified to have Jensen in their line of sight again, Jared’s wolf calms down, though it introduces new thoughts, new instructions. Kiss the alpha. Praise him. Run a hand through his hair. Leave no doubt to whom he belongs. 

Jared lights a new fire. Words to drown out his wolf appear from his mouth. “How does the Sawtooth pack prepare for winter? Is it much different?”

Jensen leans against the counter, the definition of his muscles more visible from the honey glow of the fire. “We… yeah. It’s different.”

“Do you mind if I add carrots into this?” 

“No, I like carrots.”

“Good.” Jared could smack himself. What a question. “I’m so glad Ruth brought candles. I could have used some of the deer fat to make a few, but these burn so much longer. Does the pack use candles?”

“Nope.”

“Can you hand me the pepper?”

“Yes. You sure I can’t help?”

“You hauled in dinner, the least I can do is prepare it.” 

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what? Be bossy?” 

“Well… no! That’s not…”

“Heh, got you there.”

“Yeah, yeah. I  _ meant _ why do you downplay your contributions?” 

“...”

“Sorry. That was forward.”

“It was. But no reason to be sorry. You’re a keen observer--a good trait in an alpha.”

“I guess.”

“I have never hunted alone before.”

“Never?”

“No. So, being that I need others to assist, and they spend more energy than I while doing it, I don’t feel like it’s my place to take credit. I threw a spear, but you tracked, chased, and pursued it.” 

“You helped bring it down faster than I could have chasing it.”

“I will always try to help, Jensen.”

“I know.” 

“Supper’s almost ready.” 

“We spend most of our time in four paw form. I mean. You know. To answer more of your question from before. So. Uh. We don’t use candles.”

“What if I wanted to read a book at night?” 

“Why would you wanna read a book at night?”

“Because… I enjoy reading at all hours?” 

“Hmm. No one reads at night. Well. No one really reads. We don’t keep books like you do. We learn the basics, but it’s different.”

“I understand. Not many in the Sagebrush pack read at night either.” 

“It just isn’t part of our way. Don’t need to read when you’re in four paw form. I liked doing patrol. I was good at that. I led my first hunt one summer back. And I’d just… look after the pups, make sure they didn’t get in the way.”

“Jensen.”

“Hm?”

“Now who’s downplaying their contributions?”

“It… it’s just what an alpha does.”

“That’s what a  _ great _ alpha does. Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask, don’t know about the answer.”

“Fair enough.” Jared takes a deep breath. He continuously stirs the food over the fire. “I want to know… I don’t even know how to say it. So. What are you doing here? I mean. You could have left right when you woke up.” He avoids eye contact with Jensen. “I would have given you clothes and food to take. Or at any other time, you could’ve said goodbye and either gone back to your pack or moved on. I’m not asking you to decide what you want to do in the future, but I do… want to know why you didn’t leave right away.”

Jensen rubs his shoulders. His jaw tightens, then he asks, “Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Kill you?”

“I trespassed on your territory.”

“You posed no threat.”

“I could have.”

“Yes, thus the dagger and the leash.”

“In my pack, we kill trespassers without question.”

“Oh.” 

“You know to keep your distance, but you chose to help.”

“I took precautions and assessed the situation. We don’t exactly welcome strangers with open arms, but if a Sawtooth approaches, we won’t immediately kill them. Much less one that’s obviously hurt and separated from its pack.”

“...you have a different way of doing things.”

“My pack’s not perfect, Jensen, far from it.”

“No. But I’m also talking about...  _ you _ have a different way of doing things.” 

“Me?”

“Yes. Out of necessity and just… you? I’ve never… known anyone like you before.” 

“You mean, you haven’t known anyone in a chair before.”

“No! That’s not it!” 

Without warning, Jared’s wolf rises, defensive. He clamps down the urge to shift and growl. “Do Sawtooths kill pups that are born like me? Or adults if they become injured on a hunt? Is that how you ‘deal’ with us?” 

“Stop. You aren’t letting me explain.”

“I don’t exist to be  _ marveled _ at like some kind of insect underneath your paw,” Jared snaps, sitting up straight, shoulders back. “I don’t want anyone interested in me because of how  _ different _ I am. And I don’t need praise from any alpha, especially one who sees the chair first.” 

“Jared.”

“Why are we still talking?” Jared huffs and doles out a portion of food onto a nearby plate. “Eat your dinner. There’s nothing else I want to say or hear.”

“Stop this.” Jensen kneels in front of Jared, but keeps a foot of distance between them. “Quit filling in my own emotions for me. You got the right to be mad, but I’m talking about your sketchbook.”

Green eyes shine in the company of flame and fire. 

“I’m talking about the drawings of birds and trees you like. There’s a yellow and black bird you like a lot. Or the way you can do that thing with the rope--lasso. Or when you make hot water with some of those leaves in it, and my stomach feels better after drinking it. And. The way you bring back grass or flowers and put them around the inside of here so everything smells like the forest. I… I’m not… really good at any of those things. I wouldn’t have cared about birds or leaves or any of that--if it hadn’t been for you.” 

The fire crackles. 

Jensen breaks their eye contact only to dip his head down, as he would do in four paw form. “I keep trying to think of how I can repay you for the kindness you’ve shown me and the patience you’d had. I know…” His voice falters. “I’m not the easiest to be around.” 

“Jensen,” Jared starts.

“No,” he says, with a sniff, his shoulders and jaw line tense. “I need to tell you. I’m not a pack traitor. I didn’t abandon them. I picked a fight with the new alpha and… I didn’t win.” He hangs his head in a different angle, one of shame. “You should know that.” 

Silence hangs heavy in the peppered air. 

Some wounds can’t be healed by salves and bandages. 

Jared carefully reaches out. He places his hand on the side of Jensen’s cheek. A moment passes without words--only the feeling of Jared’s fingertips slipped gently over the strong jaw of a Sawtooth alpha.

Finally, words reach Jared. 

“Alpha. The object isn’t to forget what happened, but to remember to move on. No matter the outcome,” Jared firmly says, “you matter to me.”

Jensen meets Jared’s eyes for a moment, then he closes them to lean into Jared’s hand. 

Silence brings out scents in their shared space. Sunlight. Ash. Cold creek water. Amber. Cedarwood. The dinner Jared prepared. Honeysuckle. Musk. And one other.

Whitethorn Acacia.

This flower grows in hotter climates--where the Sawtooth pack calls home. It blooms in the summer, grows in clusters of yellow and orange, and carries distinctive, stark white thorns.

Piercing and sweet, Jensen looks up. 

Their wolves acknowledge what is meant to happen next. 

They kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooooo my dears. it's been a minute. a very long minute. sigh. thank you for being so patient for updates from me. it's a tough time to be a creative with the state of the world. and i've had some displacement, so i'm personally going through a lot on top of everything else. 
> 
> i hope y'all are staying safe and healthy out there. please take care of yourselves. watch out for each other. be kind and patient with yourselves. enjoy this break with these two. <3


	11. Chapter 11

Winter prompts dark days and brutally cold nights. 

Snow will soon impact every aspect of life for the Sagebrush pack. Most will shift to their four paw forms for the season to withstand the drop in temperature. Their undercoats provide warmth and insulation in a way no two paw form ever could. 

Jared’s winter coat has always taken the shade of mahogany wood chips, most notable around his neck and shoulders. 

For anyone to bear witness to it, he has to shift. 

Kissing Jensen feels as natural as shifting from one form to another--during a time in his life when he used to do it often. 

Longing and grief having created deep track marks over his heart and mind. They aren’t there to be erased or forgotten. They serve a purpose, just like every pup’s first snakebite or sunburn. Not every trail is tall, sweet grass and sunshine. 

Not every season can be Spring. 

The first kiss and the two that follow--they feel like the best of every season intertwined into one.

He breathes Jensen in, pulling him up from his kneeling position, eager for more contact and to offer it in return. Jensen kisses with checked enthusiasm, endearingly careful to allow Jared to lead. 

Jensen’s plush lips and hot mouth spark a fierce, urgent ache. He tentatively seeks permission to escalate their kisses, to amplify, to deepen. Jared not only allows it, he encourages it with a whine and a moan. 

Wistful, soft kisses turn fervent and rough. They chase each other, as if on a hunt, their pace quickening, nipping and biting out of affection and desire. Jared leans in, breathless, but unwilling to be the first to quit. Jensen nudges their noses together, in the space of seconds before dipping back again. 

Jared keeps his hands on either side of Jensen’s throat, indulging in the soft, warm flesh underneath his fingertips. He leaves this choice spot only to take Jensen’s hands off the armrests of the chair and place them…

“Here,” Jared murmurs, his heart pounding. 

Jensen’s hands settle over Jared’s thighs. 

Before Jensen can overthink the placement of his hands, Jared catches his mouth in another kiss--joyful and bold. He senses Jensen’s hesitation as an alpha unaccustomed to an omega leading, and takes care to soon after, lean back and share command. 

Arousal from the first kiss spikes the moment Jensen digs his fingers into their newfound setting. Jared welcomes it. He returns the act with his own fingers, leaving light scratches down Jensen’s neck, throat, and shoulders. 

Fire flickers in the background, their dinner forgotten and abandoned. The scent of sweet grass, herbs, and flowers urges them on. This is natural. This is nature. 

It feels right to trot towards more physical territory and chase after instinct alone. 

Nature steps in. 

A gust of wind penetrates the yurt, causing the front flap to burst open. Cold air extinguishes the fire and leaves shuddering lashes across exposed skin. 

Jensen jumps into action. 

With a growl, he ties the front flap closed once again, this time reinforcing it with additional rope. He takes care to form sturdier knots for the front flap, as the wind howls and pummels the walls of the yurt. The leather straps from the wood beams shake from the indignant current. 

Jared rolls towards the candles, his eyes still adjusting to darkness. He digs out a match and lights two candles, then places them into the grooves of flat pieces of stone.

“Good thing it was only the flap and not the spike,” Jared says, leaving the candles in the center of the yurt, above the fire pit. He reaches for a blanket. “That was too cold for my liking.” 

Unsure what else to say, Jared waits for Jensen to speak. 

Jensen quickly starts putting together a new fire. He grabs two pieces of wood and a handful of dry pine needles from the bin nearby and tosses them into the pit. 

“It’s the first cold snap,” he says, his voice deep, his tone almost cautious.

“True. If it doesn’t light, the candles will see us through for the rest of the night. We should eat and turn in--it’s been a long day.”

“You’ll be cold.” 

“I have quite the collection of blankets,” Jared replies, one already wrapped around his shoulders. “And I thought… I thought I might shift. Just for tonight.” 

Jensen turns to face Jared. He eyes him first, and reads Jared’s body language. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I think it’s a good idea. If you… wouldn’t mind.” 

“Why would I mind?” 

“I…” Jared laughs and shrugs. “I’m not sure.” 

Nodding, Jensen sets down a piece of flint and reaches for the plates Jared had served prior to their newfound activities. They eat in silence, except for one compliment from Jensen about the meal. The candles flicker, but their flames hold steady. 

Jared savors the taste of Jensen and dinner as they finish. “Will you show me what you’ve worked on?” 

“Tomorrow,” Jensen responds, gathering their plates. “Better in the daylight.” 

“I’m glad you found materials you could use from Ranger Ruth. What did you think about the truck?” 

Jensen’s expression tells Jared everything, but he remains glad to hear a response from the man himself. “Loud. Bumpy. Don’t like it much.”

“It’s okay. It takes getting used to. There’s a creek miles away from here that I like to fish in the spring, but it’s tough to get there without a lift from one of the rangers.” Jared grabs hold of two straps above his bed. With ease, he lifts himself out of his chair and settles in. 

He pats the space next to him. 

Jensen neatly puts everything away and joins him, sitting on the edge. “Do I… uh… stay like this?” He holds up his hands to convey his intent to stay in his two paw form. “Or…?” 

“Yes, please. For the moment.” 

Kissing a Sawtooth seemed like a radical act at the start. Now, he’s about to break his omfa’s rule about shifting in the presence of an outsider--without Kaz or any trusted pack member present.

Jensen’s green, perceptive green eyes take on a warm glow. 

His wolf tugs at him to hurry. It’s been too long.

In the back of Jared’s mind, he works through a crystal clear scene--the two of them cloaked in darkness, their shadows grazing the light of the moon that trickles in between the trees. They travel watercourses, looking for beavers, their tails moving in sync, and their paws soundless on the ground. They navigate large open tracts of land, the mountains ever present in the distance. 

With a deep breath, Jared allows his perception to change. 

His wolf tightly embraces him, welcoming him back. The world transforms. Jared’s peripheral vision increases, while colors become limited. However, evening becomes clearer--every sense augmented in a way no two paw form could ever understand.

He looks out at the world--at Jensen--with his ears back and pointed away, tail twitching.

Only his front legs move without assistance. He extends them out, inching towards Jensen. Occasionally, Jared’s legs will move--the result of muscle spasms or something more complicated than he cares to dwell on. 

His winter coat has grown in, sleek, soft, and full. 

Brow furrowed, Jensen bites his bottom lip. He tilts his head and telegraphs his intended movement. He lies down, beside Jared, and cautiously extends one hand out.

Jared sniffs the air and listens for any sign of danger or any perceivable threat. 

Sunlight. Dust. Cold creek water. Amber. Cedarwood. Myrrh. Musk.

Whitethorn Acacia. 

Jared pushes himself forward with his front paws and licks Jensen’s palm. Jensen allows this, a smile peeking out, and offers his other hand. 

Eventually, Jensen moves his hands to touch Jared’s shoulders and scratch behind his ears. They lie down this way for a time, Jared tucked into the crook of Jensen’s shoulder, one paw held in the palm of Jensen’s hand. The wind outside continues its march, heralding a colder, darker time.

Winter will be different this year. 

Jensen shifts.

He nudges his nose against Jared’s, tail wagging. Jared buries his nose in Jensen’s neck and draws in the deepest breath possible. 

He feels Jensen do the same. 

The security and privacy of the yurt offers them both an opportunity to rest.

Before sleep, Jared tucks his head underneath Jensen’s muzzle.

Jensen grooms Jared, in a steady and soothing rhythm. 

They fall asleep in quiet comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hey there! thank you SO much for being here. look how much has changed in the world since i've last updated. rest assured i'm safe. i've been supporting Black Lives Matter protests and organizations from home. shout out to Chicago's Brave Space Alliance and The Chicago Freedom School, two beautiful orgs doing amazing work. i encourage y'all to find Black-led orgs in your communities. <3
> 
> i'm so so happy to come back to these two. i'm revising such big portions because i want this to be a verse. fingers crossed. 
> 
> shout out to "The Rise of Wolf 8" by Rick McIntyre for excellent info on wolves. i'm currently working without a beta, so please excuse any errors. i'm slowly getting back to activity on tumblr (compo67.tumblr.com) and answering comments here. little by little, i'm getting there. 
> 
> sending y'all lots of love, light, and gratitude. comments are love! <3


	12. Chapter 12

Before the first frost, Jared will need to dig out his elk fur blankets. 

Every year, he packs them away with care in a cedar chest, as the omfa first showed him as a pup. Without fail, each winter, Jared takes the time to add dried lavender and rosemary between each blanket. 

When he airs them out on a line in the next week, they’ll smell fresh and remind him of warmer days.

This morning, Jared wakes up still in his four paw form—a rare thing. He considers shifting back to his more comfortable form, but, curled up against an unexpected source of warmth, he decides to stay. This heat source, Jared calmly observes, remains solid against his back, pressed so that not an inch of space remains between them. 

This is how mated pairs sleep in the winter. 

Jared’s sleepy mind expects to find snow on the ground when he rises for chores. 

However, it isn’t winter.

He isn’t mated.

And he hasn’t brought out his elk fur blankets yet. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Jared catches a glimpse of his bed partner. He’s shared beds with many in his life—littermates, elders, Kaz—but never this particular wolf. 

Jensen continues sleeping, blissfully tucked in against Jared. He holds his large paws close to his chest, nose tucked underneath as if to hide his face. 

Jared holds off from leaving the bed to start the day. He places his head back on his pillow and reflects on how normal this particular situation feels. Unease and discomfort should plague him, and cause a rise in anxiety.

Neither emotion makes an appearance. 

Not even when Jensen begins to snore.

So it seems best to indulge in the serenity and security of sharing his bed with Jensen.

Nothing needs to be done this instant in terms of chores. The yurt provides a backdrop of familiarity and peace. He looks out at the world beyond his bed—from a vastly different pair of eyes from usual—and allows his mind to wander. 

What does Jensen’s spring coat look like? What kind of hunter is he? Can he get along with other alphas? Does he want to go back to his pack and try to make amends? 

Or could he stay, right here, in Jared’s bed, and be satisfied?

What is he like as a mate?

What would he be like as a father? 

Appetite—though not for food or water—demands Jared’s attention. He stretches, paws at his muzzle, and tries very much not to dip into the sudden deluge of arousing thoughts. 

Sunlight. Dust. Cold creek water. Whitethorn Acacia.

The scents of his bed and their original source pressed so close next to him push Jared over the edge. His body reacts with enthusiasm and intensity, unencumbered by anxiety or any other fussy emotions. 

He’s never had thoughts this intense towards any alpha before. Any previous curiosity about Kaz or other alphas in the pack never made it this far. The lack of it bothered him at first, until he settled into assuming that perhaps he would never feel physical attraction towards anyone.

Jared slips back into his two paw form, and lies flat on his back, mindful not to disturb the sleeping Sawtooth. 

He runs his right hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. 

Cautiously, Jared tilts his hips away from Jensen. He rarely pleasures himself. Not necessarily from lack of want—typically from lack of motivation. It requires emotional and physical effort, not to mention time. When he does take an opportunity, he usually starts, then meets his body’s refusal to maintain its arousal, pauses, starts again, continues trying, then cuts his losses and goes to sleep.

This morning, however, his cock responds without coaxing. In his left hand, he holds it, heavy against his palm. He spends so little time thinking about it, that the sudden rush of pleasure—chased by the excitement of Jensen next to him—causes him to shudder. 

Two strokes to his now-erect cock, and he lets out a high-pitched whine. 

If this is what it feels like on his own—what must it feel like with Jensen?

He should stop. 

Jensen consented to a kiss last night. A kiss—not waking up to discover Jared pleasuring himself with Jensen in mind. Even if it does feel good. 

Easing his hand away, Jared closes his eyes and shifts back into his four paw form to more easily hide his state of arousal. He can concentrate on other things. Productive things. No need to think about mating or knotting. Or what it might be like having pups. 

Pups. Now _that’s_ a subject.

Not every alpha or omega desires pups. Most do, but not all. 

Every year, the omfa in the Sagebrush pack chooses the number of mated couples that can reproduce every year. This number, Jared knows from sitting in on Council meetings, is anything but random. The decision requires careful consideration—allow too many couples to mate and the entire pack risks overpopulation. Allow too few couples to mate and the pack may suffer come future generations. Council members provide numbers and information for the omfa to make their decision, such as the number of crops, last year’s newborns, and the health of the forest. 

Several couples in the Sagebrush pack decline the omfa’s yearly invitation to mate in a way that would produce pups. They instead either forgo sexual relationships or consent to sex in human form without penetration.

For those who accept the omfa’s invitation, an average litter ranges from three to four pups.

Imagine three or four pups to look after all at once.

What color coats would they have? Tawny or dark? 

Jensen rouses from his sleep in time to prevent Jared’s mind from spiraling into a dizzying abyss of questions. 

Stretching and yawning, Jensen stays in his four paw form. He lifts his head and gently nudges Jared with his nose. Jared issues a playful whine, then tilts his head back, letting Jensen know he’s awake. 

Satisfied, Jensen yawns once more, formidable teeth bared for that instant, then rests his head against Jared’s torso. 

Jared twists a bit to lick the top of Jensen’s head. 

Pleased, Jensen makes no effort to hide his tail swishing. 

Some time later, they each shift and begin what has now become their morning routine—they light a few candles, tend to their personal business, wash up, and dress. Jensen decides between two sweaters, one blue, one green. He settles on the green one after a gentle nudge from Jared and pairs it with denim trousers, though he continues to opt out of wearing socks or shoes despite the chill. 

All of this occurs in the most comfortable silence, a replica of the silence that lives in the forest. 

Jared collects ingredients for breakfast and Jensen starts a fire in the pit. The second Jensen receives his portion of food, he digs in. 

“Slow down,” Jared quips, shaking his head. “It’s already dead.” 

Jensen snorts and gives a quick smile. “I know that.”

“Then what is the hurry?”

“I wanna show you what I made yesterday.”

“I’m sure it won’t disappear. Sensible bites.”

And what does Jensen do in response? He takes an even larger bite of food than before. His cheeks swell like a chipmunk’s, and he proudly smiles all the while. 

“You’re worse than a pup,” Jared sighs, matching Jensen’s smile. 

“Leshgu,” Jensen whines, setting his plate down. “C’mon.” 

“I’m not done!” 

“Safforla’er.” 

“Don’t speak with your mouth full.” 

“Ishnotfull.” 

Jared stares at Jensen. 

“Okay,” Jensen murmurs, a hint of a smile left. “Ishkinnafull.” 

Ten appropriate minutes later, Jared wheels out of the yurt. He anticipated the dip in temperature, so he wraps a sarape around his shoulders and pulls on his fingerless gloves. His chair squeaks in protest of the colder weather. He makes a mental note to oil it soon. 

As he wheels beside Jensen—who decided to shift into four paw form—he considers sharing this morning’s… personal events and questions. Is it too soon? Possibly. But if he doesn’t make his desires and contemplations known, he may miss an important opportunity. A kiss and sharing a bed is the start of _something_. 

But his wolf craves _more_. 

Jensen bounds ahead, leading Jared to the work station, which he covered last night with a tarp. He yips and bounces, full of energy, tongue out and panting. 

“Interesting,” Jared muses, rolling up to the bench. He touches the tarp. “Should I uncover it?”

Impatient, Jensen yips— _yes_. 

“Perhaps I should take my time with it.” 

Jensen barks this time. _No!_

“I should savor it,” Jared teases, maintaining a straight face. “Roll it back inch by inch.”

Exasperated, Jensen lifts his front paws for a second. He then extends his paws in front of him while raising his tail and barks again. _Hurry!_

Jared grabs hold of the tarp and pulls back in one swoop. 

Complete astonishment graces Jared’s face. His jaw drops. He clutches the tarp against him in disbelief. Frozen in place, he attempts to take in the sight before him. 

Out of a human child’s bicycle and the random scraps found in Ranger Ruth’s truck bed, plus the leftovers from an attempt his littermates began years ago—Jensen has built Jared a working four paw wheelchair.

Its beautifully mismatched parts glint in the sunlight. 

No detail was too small to include. Jared spots old leather straps tied to the frame as stirrups to keep his feet elevated and off the ground, a method of prevention against scraping or dragging. 

Jensen shifts into his two paw form, adjusting his sweater. He scans Jared’s face, brow creased with worry. 

“It works,” he assures Jared, motioning towards the chair. His words tumble out, rushed. “I tested it out myself. I promise it works. I… we had a bicycle. Well. One of the yearlings found it last summer. When they busted it, I fixed it for them. So I thought. Well. Look.” 

Hands on the frame, Jensen extends it out. 

“I can adjust it. I mean. You. _You_ can adjust it. And if you have some, I can paint it.” 

He turns to Jared, eyes pleading. 

“Say _some_ thing. If it’s no good, I can start over.” 

For the first time in many, many moons, words fail Jared. 

“This is mine,” he says, his tongue thick in his mouth and eyes increasingly clouded. “You made this for me.” 

Not entirely relieved just yet, Jensen gives a tentative nod. “But do you like it?”

Jared reaches out and places his hand on the closest wheel. He closes his eyes and pictures the sight of the forest on four paws. The new perspectives. The new scents. Every last sight, sound, and smell as thrilling to him as it was when he was just a pup on his omfa’s back. 

His wrists and hands welcome the respite, while his wolf begs to immediately try it out. 

Eyes open, Jared rushes to wipe away fresh tears. 

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he finally admits. “Though words could never possibly be enough.” 

Their eyes meet. 

“Thank you.” 

Jensen finally allows himself to breathe, followed by a small smile. 

“Well… you’re welcome.” 

Jensen goes on to show Jared a few other features, including a knapsack he stitched together from pieces of old t-shirts--remnants from the forest preserve’s gift shop.

For once, in the brief time they’ve known each other, Jensen speaks more than Jared.

Jared hardly minds. 

He could get used to it. 

The next question Jensen asks, Jared commits to memory in its entirety. The cadence of his voice. The eye crinkles from his smile. The excitement and enthusiasm in his tone. And the way his hair flutters in the wind. 

“Let’s go for a run?” 

It’s all unexpectedly perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, my dears! finally an update. <3 thank you for your patience! i'm so so so happy to put this chapter up. thank you to beta K for her help. if you'd like to uplift my work, you can visit compo67.tumblr.com. :) 
> 
> this chapter is especially dear to me. <3 comments are love!


	13. Chapter 13

Jared reconnects to the forest.

Fragments of memory and past experiences merge together. The leather straps of the new chair cradle his hind legs as his front paws and the bicycle wheels work in tandem.

Nature takes on a different view of itself from this perspective.

Jensen strapped Jared into the chair with a great deal of care. He fussed over the fit until Jared huffed and stamped his paws—he was ready to  _ roll _ .

Every little thing appears endlessly fascinating through his wolf’s senses. His eyes see a smaller range of colors, however, his sense of smell more than makes up for it.

Jensen follows close, patient and attentive as Jared sniffs through a gallery of flowers.

Trilliums. 

Violets. 

Bellwort? 

Bluebells. 

Calypso Orchids. 

Mountainbells. 

_ Starflowers! _

Then there’s the moss. The sweet, ticklish grass. Pine needles. Tree trunks. Mushrooms. Sour berries. The brisk, crisp smell of the river and waterfall nearby.

Sniffing and trotting along, Jared bumps into the source of a scent created in nature, but manifests in the rush of blood, bone, muscle, and passion.

Jensen licks Jared’s nose.

Jared tosses his head, happy beyond words, his mouth soft and partially open. He continues along the path, the wheels of the new chair keeping up with his movements beautifully. The tender pads of his paws hit the earth in a one-two-one-two rhythm. As with his two-paw chair, he pays extra attention to the terrain, knowing that it won’t take more than an errant pine cone or unseen rock to toss him off balance. 

Time flies past like honey bees in the spring. He catalogues the chair’s limitations and works through them. The sensation of his front paws on the ground while his hind legs stay still and elevated becomes something to lean into rather than avoid. 

Through a large clearing of sweet-smelling grass, he chases after Jensen in circles.

Jared is energized by the exercise in this form. He keeps up with Jensen, gradually increasing their pace. When Jensen picks up a stick, Jared bounds forward and snatches it from him in a surprise upset. 

Jensen yips, delighted, and initiates a friendly tug of war.

Jared sinks his teeth into the wood, its crunch extremely satisfying. Locked on, they each dig their paws into the earth. Dragging. Twisting. Yanking. Pulling. Like littermates, Jared and Jensen voice competitive snarls, tossing their heads, wrestling and putting their weight into the game. 

Victorious, Jared wins. 

He teases Jensen with the stick, encouraging him to just  _ try  _ and take it back.  _ See what happens. _ Jensen bows forward, front paws spread and his tail wagging at record speed. His eyes follow the stick, and when Jared holds it still too long, he barks— _ throw it! _

Jared flings the stick as far as he can into the tall grass. They race to find it, each guided by their noses. The cold morning air does nothing to deter their play.

A flock of blue and gold birds erupt from their hidden refuge in the grass, where they had likely been eating away at a cache of worms. They fly off, chirping loudly at the disruption of their meal.  _ Birds put on such dramatics.  _ The stick forgotten, Jared and Jensen trail after them, barking and yipping. 

In his two paw form, getting enough speed to feel like running requires an immense amount of effort and often places pressure on Jared’s hands and wrists. He rarely reaches a speed that can be described as  _ fast _ .

This is not the case now.

Paws extended, Jared excitedly follows the birds until they are completely out of sight. He pants from excitement and the burn of raw energy. Jensen turns them back to the forest. Squirrels and chipmunks provide amusement along their way. 

Out of the corner of Jared’s eye, a plump rabbit catches his attention. He hesitates at first, undecided whether to pursue it or not is a good idea. Rabbits zig-zag, which Jared knows will make it difficult for maneuvering the new rig. 

But he’s not alone. 

The Sawtooth alpha in his company bolsters his confidence

Jared tracks the rabbit, putting his skills in observation, patience, and determination to use. His coat coloring allows him to blend in with the forest and his chair’s wheels remain blessedly quiet. 

He smells the rabbit’s reactions and knows the way this works. Rabbits have their advantages. Their eyes provide them with a much wider field of view. Catching one is often more trouble than it’s worth—all that running for not much meat.

Fortunately, Jared and Jensen are not in a desperate situation where this is the only thing between them and starvation. This is only how the Elders used to do it, without traps and purely in four paw form. They relied on instinct and hunger. 

The flutter of a bird’s wings from a nearby tree incites the rabbit to make the first move. It sprints away, twisting and contorting, as if its body were water tossed into the air. Jared nods to the left and runs, with Jensen creating a wide circle on the right. The rabbit dashes over and under fallen branches. Jared and Jensen thread themselves through the forest, like needles piercing pieces of felt. The tighter the pattern, the stronger the outcome. 

Stay flexible. Keep calm. Maintain equilibrium.

Jared drives the rabbit towards Jensen. 

Jensen homes in, his long body supported by the strength of his paws. His coat stands out in the trees, a potential detriment on this hunt. But his ability to dodge soundlessly behind trees and brush grant him some element of surprise. They work in nods, glances, howls, and snarls.

It reminds Jared of a story told by Sagebrush Elders, the one about how a hunting party of three omegas took down a moose large enough to feed the entire pack for weeks.  _ When an opportunity arises, an omega must seize it. _

Working with an alpha to secure that opportunity, however, is entirely different.

_ Though no less enjoyable,  _ Jared muses.

Unfortunately for them, the rabbit has a stroke of luck. It ducks into an old underground nest and completely disappears from view. Jensen sticks his muzzle into the hole before Jared can bark at him not to. 

Jensen snorts, pulls back, and shakes his head free of prickers. 

Jared could  _ almost _ shift back into his two paw form just to laugh. Almost. There’s so much more to do than chase after a random rabbit. Jared leads them to the river, where they get their paws wet, rest, and take a drink. 

On their way to another clearing Jared favors, twigs snap underneath their feet and wheels like firecrackers. Jared glides through piles of leaves. Grass ripples in waves from the northern wind pushing through. Jensen walks up to Jared and licks Jared’s muzzle.

Receiving and giving affection in his four paw form still retains a foreign quality to it. Jared stays in place as Jensen switches from providing affection to grooming him. Jensen must have done this for the yearlings in the Sawtooth pack. He nips skillfully through Jared’s coat. 

Comforted and calm, Jared responds in kind. He paws at Jensen to sit, which he does, and reciprocates the kindness. He starts by licking Jensen’s muzzle, which is a lighter color than the rest of his coat, followed by his ears and scruff. Jensen’s tail thumps on the ground. The sky overhead turns overcast, a reminder of winter’s impending arrival. Large, gray clouds stretch out in the same manner as Jensen stretches out in the grass.

On his back, Jensen exposes his freckled and spotted midsection. He looks up at Jared from an upside down angle, head tilted, paws held up in the most humorous position. 

Tentatively, Jared picks up his right front paw and places it over Jensen’s chest.

_ Stay _ .

The air in the clearing rejuvenates them.

Their eyes meet. 

Jensen nods. He reaches up to lick Jared’s muzzle once more—this time a sign of submission, acceptance, and consent. Jared meets him halfway, ducking down. He rubs their muzzles together. Pleased, Jensen leans into the touch, his eyes closed and tongue lolling—the picture of joy. 

Soon, the grass will turn brittle. Frost and snow will blanket the entire forest. 

So much hurt and healing had to come to pass for these moments of joy to occur. 

Jared nudges his muzzle against Jensen’s once more. The straps holding his hind legs and hips in place prevent him from lying down, though he tries a few times just to see. Jensen stands and rubs against the length of Jared’s body—twice for good measure. 

Their scents mingle together, woven like the crystalized spiderwebs that hang amongst the tree branches. Those webs weather rain, storms, and all other external forces. 

Jared issues a silent prayer that whatever bonds have formed between himself and Jensen will do the same.

Seasons will change.

But they can change, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> biiiiiig thank you to Beta K and C for their help on this. K always finds a way to elevate my work and take it to a new level. and C is always so enthusiastic and reminds me to keep things light, which you know, i forget to do sometimes. XD
> 
> so happy to be writing again, y'all. i can't even begin to say how GOOD it feels. let's hope this continues, right?
> 
> comments are love. i read every single one. <3 i hope y'all are staying safe and healthy. big hugs.


	14. Chapter 14

Confidence adds a quick step to Jared’s paws. 

He leads Jensen further into the forest, where the trees grow closer together and nature exists largely untouched by humans or four paws. His nose, ears, and paws provide a sense of direction he struggles to achieve in his two paw form. 

The canopy of trees overhead blocks out most of the sunlight, yet patches allow for beams to shine through. Jensen occasionally trots a few steps ahead to clear the dusty path for Jared’s wheels. When he encounters rocks, he’ll nudge them using his muzzle; when he encounters branches or pieces of bark, he’ll drag them away using his sizable teeth. Jared savors each and every gesture, stopping occasionally to lick Jensen’s ears. 

Leaves and pine needles soften the forest floor. Gusts of wind curl against the walls of stoic canyons. These large walls of moss-covered stone slice through trees and lead to a hidden waterfall. Despite the change in weather, the canyon shows clear signs of the abundant wildlife and vegetation that call this place home.

This is true seclusion. 

And as close to nature as any four paw can claim.

Jensen peers out at the waterfall, then follows his nose to look further upstream, no doubt picking up the scent of a family of beavers within a mile. He looks back at Jared for some explanation or direction.

Jared barks and stamps his paws once on the ground before turning. He leads, his paws light on the ground and head held high. 

They stop in the middle of a grassy clearing on the edge of the stream, in a part of the forest so private and personal to Jared, he has never before shared it with any other person. This is where the grass grows the sweetest and keeps the longest before the first frost. This is where Jared managed to wheel himself out past the trail, beyond his usual routine, and gaze up at the multitude of stars whose presence reassured him he was never truly alone.

There happens to be quite a difference between being alone and feeling lonely.

While he chose to distance himself from the pack, his desire for independence never felt like a burden. It is because of that distance and the space to grow as an individual that he developed a secure sense of self. He knows what he needs, what he wants, and the things his heart and mind are quite capable of doing. 

This can be Jensen’s opportunity to invest in himself, outside of the requirements and judgments of either pack. 

Jared stretches his forepaws in front of him, in clear view of Jensen. 

Jensen accepts the welcome. He looks out at this particular section of the forest with quiet reverence, more subdued than when they first started out on their expedition. His ears flicker and gradually, his tail settles into a relaxed wag.

Only a few moments later, Jensen shifts into his two paw form. He kneels beside Jared and opens the satchel attached to the new chair. Pulling out a blanket, he confirms with Jared about the next few steps. With a great deal of care, Jensen helps him out of the harness, then out of the chair. He cradles Jared, securely picking him up with both arms. 

Jared lies down on the grass, comfortable and at ease on his left side.

He shifts into his own two paw form, and can’t help but laugh as a strong gust of cold wind tosses more than a few leaves all over Jensen. 

“They suit you,” Jared snickers and picks a few off from Jensen’s sweater. “Like feathers.”

Jensen huffs and moves from his crouching position to lying next to Jared. “I don’t need feathers.”

“I suppose you don’t.”

Looking out at the active, bustling stream, Jensen takes a deep breath. He shakes his head. “I’ve never been in a place like this.” He glances at Jared. “Or with anyone like this.”

Jared meets Jensen’s eyes. 

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah. A lot.”

“Are you cold?”

“No. Are you? I can get the second blanket…”

Jared reaches for and grabs Jensen by the collar of his sweater. He pulls Jensen in with the same tenacity as the wind and kisses him—sweet, rough, and ardent.

The sensation of Jensen sinking into the kiss and inhaling deeply before initiating the second one launches an overwhelming desire for  _ more _ . Jared maintains a firm grip on Jensen’s sweater, tugging him closer, providing him with a clear invitation to slot themselves together. They are a good fit.

Jensen works his arms around Jared, mindful of their position, and takes the offered lead with enthusiasm. His large hands settle over Jared’s hips, while he changes the tempo and depth of their kisses—measured, deep, concentrated. Jared closes his eyes and basks in the bewitching, delectable dance of their lips, teeth, and tongues. 

Chest to chest, nose to nose, they tangle together. Jared places one hand on Jensen’s chest and the other on Jensen’s left shoulder blade. In turn, Jensen keeps his right hand active, free to brush his fingers over Jared’s jaw or run through Jared’s hair. With his left hand, Jensen props himself up. This lasts for only a few minutes, until he feels the extent of Jared’s arousal pressed against his thigh.

Jared’s heart jumps with excitement the moment Jensen changes their position. 

There may not be anything in this world that feels as good as an alpha settled atop an omega.

Now flat on his back, Jared’s view narrows to a pair of vivacious green eyes framed by a smattering of cinnamon freckles, and accompanied by a very skilled, very eager pink mouth.

“Go on, then,” Jared blurts out, laughing. “Don’t stop there.”

Jensen snorts and smirks, exuberantly. “You just  _ have _ to talk, huh?”

“And you just  _ have _ to listen.”

Jared ends the banter. While yes, he can talk a great deal, often without requiring a response, he can think of better things to do. He lifts his hips up and through the fabric of their clothing, pushes his erection against Jensen’s. 

Jensen’s eyes flutter and he bites his bottom lip as he whines.

Their kisses turn from honeyed to rich and smoldering. Jensen grinds his hips against Jared’s, fully in command of the pressure and friction. Every push leads to a pull and every pull leads to a push. Jared’s hands find Jensen’s hips, holding steady there, gripping as encouragement. 

Jensen’s weight above him carves into his senses. 

The sensation of Jensen’s mouth hovering over his throat followed by the pierce of teeth wrenches a sound from Jared closer in pitch and timbre to that of his four paw form. His cock swells against the confines of his clothing, met by the solid heft of Jensen’s. 

Completely submerged in each other, the sounds and scents of the forest blend and blur to only the beating of their hearts.

That is, until Jensen abruptly pulls away from Jared.

His eyes search the tree line, sharp and focused. 

It isn’t until Kaz slams into Jensen from the side that they realize the breach of their privacy. 

A formidable presence in his four paw form, and a trained hunter, Kaz aims directly for Jensen’s throat. He misses by an inch—an important inch—but he succeeds in stunning Jensen, knocking him off of Jared entirely. 

“No!” Jared shouts, pulling himself up to a sitting position.  _ “Kaz! No!” _

Although dazed, Jensen manages to shift into his four paw form. He stumbles, but manages to evade Kaz’s second attack, then retaliates with a snarl and snap of his own. In just a matter of seconds, and in a blur of teeth, the conflict escalates. Kaz and Jensen clash viciously.

Jared shouts, but neither alpha hears him, too engaged in what they believe to be their own righteous battles. 

The two alphas barrel towards a line of nearby fir trees, where they take turns slamming each other into the thick, unforgiving trunks. Kaz tries to make use of his bared teeth, aiming over and over again for Jensen’s eyes and muzzle. He has the advantage of not only catching Jensen off-guard, but of size and experience. Jensen’s speed and reflexes help, and he attempts to break away from the trees. 

Kaz, however, succeeds in thwarting Jensen’s efforts. He secures a position every alpha tasked with protecting his pack vies for as he corners Jensen into a limited space.

Fortunately, Jensen packed one of Jared’s daggers into the satchel. It took Jared longer than he wanted to reach the chair and satchel, but once he holds it in his grasp, a wave of relief washes over him. Control.  _ Finally _ .

Jared’s skill and long-distance aim shine through. 

He throws the dagger in one fluid movement. It lands exactly where he wanted—two inches above Kaz’s line of vision.

Kaz finally,  _ finally _ looks over to Jared. 

“Would you  _ STOP?! _ ” Jared hollers, waving an arm in the air. “ _ Kaz!  _ Get over here so I can kick your ass! That’s my  _ mate!” _

The words resonate fiercely with Jared, and they do cause Kaz’s eyes to widen, but there’s no time to reflect on such a bold statement. Jensen uses the brief moment of distraction to bound past Kaz and run towards Jared. 

Kaz follows, quickly on Jensen’s heels, and makes a point to shove Jensen out of the way when they reach Jared. 

Shifting, Kaz immediately kneels beside Jared and helps him to a more comfortable sitting position. Jensen follows suit, though he sits an arm’s length away from both Jared and Kaz.

Kaz grew up enjoying the privilege of his size and stature. He’s always had a tall, solid frame, even as a pup. Jared used to jokingly call him a “wall,” since no one and nothing could make him move. Combined with his sepia skin, curly black hair, and broad smile, he grew up to be one of the most handsome alphas in the Sagebrush pack. 

Looking past the expressions of frustration and confusion clear in Kaz’s face, Jared notices he’s grown a bit of a beard.

“What do you mean he’s your  _ mate?!”  _ Kaz blurts out, his hands frantic. “Jared.” He points at Jensen. “ _ That _ ain’t just  _ any _ stranger—that’s the son of the Sawtooth pack leader!” 

“I  _ know  _ he’s from the Sawtooth pack,” Jared volleys back. 

Kaz rolls his eyes, as he’s been doing in response to many of Jared’s quips since they were pups. “Did he also tell you he’s a pack desserter? Here you are, sucking face with him—I thought he was hurting you!”

Jared casts an inquisitive look towards Jensen, who refuses to make eye contact, preferring to keep his head down. He turns back to Kaz and the matter at hand.

“Kaz. It was a private moment. He was not hurting me.”

“It sure didn’t sound like it was anything  _ gentle _ .”

“Thank you,” Jared snaps. “Thank you for your observation.”

“You stink.”

“Not another word, Kaz.”

“I’m supposed to just shut up about this?”

“Yes. That would be ideal.”

“You’re in over your head, Jare. How can you not see that?”

“We’re not discussing this now. I want to go back to the yurt.”

“You expect me to walk with a Sawtooth? How long has he been with you? I can’t believe you’d let a disgraced alpha from another pack into your—” 

Jared’s tone turns sharp.  _ “Watch it.” _

“He was on  _ top  _ of you.”

“A choice that was and is  _ mine _ to make. Do you give your mate this much trouble?”

“Why are you so stubborn? Why do you insist on putting yourself into dangerous situations?” 

“If I had decided the situation was dangerous, I would have taken care of it.”

“On your own, isolated from the rest of the pack—yeah, that makes perfect sense.”

_ “Stop.”  _ Jared’s tone is sharp again. He points to the thrown knife, still buried in the tree a distance away. “Retrieve my dagger and let’s go. Jensen will help me into my harness.”

Kaz takes a curious glance at the four paw chair, grumbling something underneath his breath, questioning the quality of the chair and the person who likely built it. Despite this, Kaz listens to Jared’s command. He does so, however, looking over his shoulder every other step forward. 

Jared turns to Jensen and extends a hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Jared says, his tone softer than it had been with Kaz. “He’s an act first, ask questions later kind of alpha.” 

The chill from earlier returns. This time, it sticks. 

Jensen shrugs.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

“Where else would you be?”

“You heard him,” Jensen snips, his expression twisted. “I’m a deserter.” 

Jared pinches the bridge of his nose in an effort to maintain patience and calm. The spike in adrenaline left him more rattled than he’d care to admit. He had been hoping for an entirely different and vastly more peaceful introduction than what just had occurred. 

“I trust you, Jensen,” Jared says, extending his hand yet again. “I don’t think of you as a deserter. Whatever reason made you leave, I have to say, I’m thankful for it. Let’s go back and we’ll take things one step at a time. Please.”

Jensen takes Jared’s hand.

Their eyes meet and their smiles match.

They prepare for the long walk back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew, 2200 words for you! <3 thank you for reading. i'm so so grateful for the positive reception this fic has received. thank you to my beta K for the help with this chapter. 
> 
> i am, as ever, grateful to have readers such as y'all. you've been so good to me and i would be lost without this fandom. thank you. <3


	15. Chapter 15

Kaz and Jared share the same birthday.

They were born in an unusually large group for the Sagebrush pack that spring. Every omega given permission by the pack’s leader—the Omfa—gave birth to full litters of four or more. Jared himself had plenty of littermates to keep him company in the first six weeks he spent cloistered in his family’s den. 

After two moons meant for bonding with littermates and their parents, Sagebrush pups join the rest of the pack. Both alphas and omegas take turns babysitting, teaching, feeding, and guiding the new group. Cooperative living is the foundation of the Sagebrush pack, as it provides innumerable benefits for successful hunting, pup-rearing, and the defense of their territory. 

This way of life means that the Sagebrush pack also follows tradition and instinct in matters of breeding. The Omfa selects a small handful of omegas every year to breed. By controlling the number of couples allowed to breed, the pack self-regulates its numbers, preventing as best they can any over- or under-population. 

Some years bring large groups of pups, other years see fewer.

Due to the size of Jared’s group, and out of an abundance of caution for Jared’s physical well-being, his parents carefully controlled his time outside their den for the first few years of his life. They went out of their way to connect with other couples to select a yearling from outside of Jared’s litter for companionship. They sought to pair Jared with a mature, sensible yearling who would provide a much-needed connection to their group, sensitive to Jared’s particular needs and abilities. 

That yearling ended up being Kaz.

In the yurt, Jared talks out of habit and anxiety. Situated back in his two-paw chair, he wheels around, organizing things here and there while Jensen quietly tends to the fire pit. 

Once Jensen succeeds in making a small fire, he mumbles an excuse to leave for more firewood. Jared does nothing to try and persuade Jensen otherwise. He doesn’t blame him for wanting a brief reprieve from the tension. 

Kaz remains standing, close to the opening of the yurt, his arms folded over his chest.

“I like your sweater,” Jared says, folding a blanket to keep his hands occupied. “Must be new. Looks like Bishop made it? I think I recognize his patterns.”

“He did,” Kaz rumbles.

The stretch of silence afterwards is both uncommon and uncomfortable. 

“We’ll have a good lunch,” Jared says, making an effort to keep his voice cheerful. “I have a few things to use up.” 

No response. Well, that’s not quite true. Blinking could count as a response. 

On his previous visit, Kaz could not stop talking about a cluster of wild mushrooms he found on patrol one evening. He went into all kinds of detail about his discovery, down to the color of the stems. Before he could eat his accidental snack, one of the older alphas insisted he check with Finit—an Elder alpha with expertise in what might be edible and what might be poison. Ranger Ruth trained him many years ago. Now that Jared thinks on it, Finit might want to start training an apprentice. 

Jared debates asking about the mushrooms just to pull some conversation out of his stubborn friend, but he soon thinks of something better. He grabs a bundle of items wrapped in plain paper and tied with string from underneath his bed. 

“Ranger Ruth brought you these.”

The mention of Ranger Ruth perks Kaz up by a fraction. He steps forward, takes the bundle, steps back, and immediately opens up the package of Oreos.

Munching on a cookie, trying to savor it, Kaz murmurs, “She was here?”

“Yes, she’s doing well, shutting things down for the season. She brought a bunch of things. How’s Bishop doing?”

“No, no, no,” Kaz grumbles. “ _ Don’t _ change the subject like that.”

“Like what?” Jared muses, flashing a smile. “It’s an honest question.”

Kaz rolls his eyes. “Oh, no. Don’t even try the dimples. So, wait. You mean to tell me that Ranger Ruth met this…”

“Jensen,” Jared coolly interrupts. “Yes, she met Jensen. And we took a short ride in her truck.”

“Puh. I’d like to see that.”

“Don’t be so rude, you’ve above that.”

“Yeah, I figure I’m four inches taller than him.”

“ _ Kaz _ .”

“This is not what I expected out of today. I don’t know where to start, Jare.”

“So don’t start. Jensen is an attentive alpha and we’ve had a pleasant time together. That’s it.”

“You say this like it’s normal.”

Jared makes direct, piercing eye contact with Kaz from across the yurt, the amount of space between them a canyon.

“When,” Jared says, taking a deep, bracing breath, “have I ever cared for  _ normal _ ? ”

Kaz rubs the back of his neck. He hangs his head. “I’m sorry, Jare.”

When their party of three arrived back at the yurt, Jensen and Kaz rushed to be the first to help Jared out of his four paw-chair and into his usual chair. Ultimately, each helped with the transfer, though Kaz insisted on vocalizing the order in which to do things. 

Emotions run rampant inside the yurt, bouncing off the beams, intermingling with smoke from the fire. An entire field of silence blooms all around.

Jared sits back in his chair and takes a brief glance upwards at the vent. He imagines puffs of clouds instead of wisps of smoke. 

He was ten years old when Rangers delivered his very first custom-built chair. It was hand-crafted just for him, one of a kind, and a major milestone. The orthopedic specialists at the human hospital worked for six months to design the chair, test it, collect measurements, work with a supplier, and make adjustments. 

Over the span of those six months, Jared remained a regular visitor at the human hospital. The appointments were often long and filled with repetitive activities. 

Kaz fought to attend as many of those appointments with Jared as the pack would allow. During each one, Kaz never left Jared’s side. And at only ten years old, he picked up tricks of the trade from the specialists when it came to assisting Jared. 

The memories serve as more than pleasant reminders of the past. They form a bridge to deeper understanding. 

Jared brings his right hand to his mouth and taps his chin for a moment. 

“It’s okay, you know.”

Light from the sliver of space in the opening of the yurt accentuates Kaz’s features. The frown on Kaz’s face grows. His eyebrows knit together: all cues in a language Jared speaks fluently.

“What’s okay?”

Tenderness from years of trust and playful banter guides Jared’s words. 

“It’s okay to let someone else get close to me.”

Kaz glances over, his eyes full of doubt. 

Jared offers the flutter of a smile. 

Unmoved, Kaz maintains his stoic façade.

Jared takes a leap of faith and pulls out the A+ material—by waggling his eyebrows.

“No,” Kaz blurts out, fighting hard to suppress his smile. “That’s not gonna work.”

“Oh-ho, I think it will.”

“Stop that.”

“Can’t hear you, too busy.”

“Busy being weird.”

“That’s all that happens around here,” Jared snickers. “All weird, all the time.”

Kaz sighs and allows a tiny, tiny smile. “You’re gonna give yourself a headache.”

“Worth it.”

“What do you want me to say? That I love and accept him with open arms?”

Jared’s eyebrows take a rest. 

“No,” he says, plainly. “I just want you to say you’ll give him a chance.”

Kaz finally takes a seat on Jared’s bed. He leans forward, hands clasped, the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“He looks mean, Jare. Like all the rest of them Sawtooths.”

“You’ve never met other Sawtooths.”

“Well, not face to face—but I  _ know  _ they beat their omegas. How can you trust anyone from a pack like that?”

“They place their alphas in positions of importance. It’s their way. And their omegas choose to follow it.”

“So you’ll excuse him?”

“I mean—I’m aware of how the Sawtooth pack operates. And Jensen is different. He’s here for that reason. He didn’t fit there. You’ve never felt like you didn’t fit in the pack.”

“I don’t want to know any pack that doesn’t treat omegas with respect.”

“Kaz, can’t you consider that maybe he feels the same way?” 

“I…—” Kaz closes his mouth. He looks away, then right back at Jared. “Wait, what?”

Jared gives a knowing smile, perched confidently in his chair. “Just think about it.”

“It’s weird,” Kaz sighs, wringing his hands. 

“Yeah, it is. But it’s less weird when you get to know him.” Jared’s voice softens. “As I have.”

A glance in any direction inside the yurt shows signs of their cohabitation. Jensen’s favorite elk horn rests on top of a pile of folded blankets where he likes to curl up near the fire pit after a meal. The heart-shaped pebble from the waterfall sits proudly on the bookcase. Small bunches of pine boughs tied together with string hang from a few support beams—Jensen’s idea and doing. 

In the span of just a few minutes, Jared catches Kaz up to speed with every chore and task Jensen has helped with to prepare for winter. He details their hunt together, the pride he felt in assisting, and the gratitude towards Jensen for providing him with the opportunity.

Happiness lifts Jared’s words as he speaks. 

Winter doesn’t seem as daunting to him now. These won’t be months he prays go by quickly. These will be months to spend with an alpha he has the incredible fortune of calling  _ his. _

What others have felt for their mates, Jared now gets to experience for himself.

Kaz manages a sincere, open smile. “I mean, I… I wanted you to find happiness. It ain’t like I can’t share.”

Jared nods. “The only limit to your generosity is Oreos.”

“Hey.” Kaz protectively pats the package of Oreos. “I earned these.”

“That you did.”

Jared wheels over to Kaz. Closing the physical distance between loosens each stitch of tension. In the same motion Jared reaches up, Kaz leans down. They stay forehead to forehead, nose to nose, for an inch more than a moment. 

“You’re beloved,” Kaz murmurs. He gives Jared’s chin a playful nudge. “And you damn right deserve to be treated like it by everyone—no excuses.”

“Absolutely,” Jared confirms.

Before they part, Kaz bumps their noses together. 

“He still looks mean.”

Jared helps himself to  _ two _ Oreos for that comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, my dears! i'm so happy to have an update for y'all. <3 i hope you had a restful holiday and/or a great week last week. i have been thankful to dip into this verse. even with the feels, it's calm here. XD
> 
> what do y'all think of how i've been writing jared in his chair so far? i've very much enjoyed the experience of writing a main character who uses a mobility aid. i think this is something i'd like to continue doing. :)
> 
> big thank yous to beta K and C. comments are love! i hope y'all are staying healthy and safe. <3


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